


call me a safe bet (i'm betting i'm not)

by mrsenjolras



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 10:31:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11735229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsenjolras/pseuds/mrsenjolras
Summary: They agreed that it would be too hard for them to keep up their relationship long distance, that they didn’t want to risk losing their friendship. So it made sense that when Harry was away, they saw other people. They’re the same as they always are when they’re together--Harry guesses you could call them friends with benefits, but he doesn’t think that really encompasses what they mean to each other. Louis calls them idiots, which, well, probably isn’t all that inaccurate.It’s not really that big of a deal. Harry is happy. Liam is happy--well, Harry’s pretty sure Liam is happy. So Louis can just shut it.[Or: Liam and Harry have an arrangement, and it all goes great, until it doesn't.]





	call me a safe bet (i'm betting i'm not)

**Author's Note:**

> this came about because i wanted to try my hand at writing angst and writing harry's pov, so we'll see how well i did at both, i guess!
> 
> thanks to everyone who i ever spoke to while writing this fic, but especially to justine for letting me use our chat to plot this entire thing, to the lirry gc for always yelling at me when i wasn't writing (love y'all always), and to amanda for encouraging me to include every self-indulgent thing i can think of (mostly belly button appreciation tho)
> 
> and extra extra special thanks to lyssi for being an amazing beta for this, you were such a big help and i couldn't have finished this without u
> 
> title from the boy who blocked his own shot by brand new

Harry slips through the door quietly, toeing his boots off at the door before padding down the dark hallway in his socks. It’s late, his flight from LA getting in well past midnight, and he knows that the flat’s inhabitants are asleep. He reaches the bedroom on the left and eases the door open, peeking his head in quickly to make sure he hasn’t awoken the boy on the bed.

Liam’s fast asleep under a mound of blankets, lying on his stomach with arms spread wide across the bed. Harry smiles, ducking into the room and quickly taking off his jeans--nearly tripping and knocking the lamp over before he catches himself--and shirt before slipping into bed next to Liam in his boxers. Liam stirs a little and Harry stills, but Liam just sighs and rolls over, dropping an arm over Harry’s waist. Harry breathes out, relaxing against the pillows, and falls asleep. 

*

Harry thinks he’s always been in love with Liam, ever since he was six years old and scraped his knees falling on the playground and a little boy with big brown eyes and a gap-toothed smile asked him if he was okay and then held his hand while his mum bandaged his injuries. Liam had introduced himself and his “bestest best friend” Louis, who happened to be the same Louis who lived next door to Harry who would sometimes play Power Rangers with him, and the three of them hit it off immediately. They were inseparable from the start, the Three Musketeers. Eventually, the crush on Liam Harry harbored that guaranteed Liam and Harry permanent positions as the parents whenever they played house became something a bit less innocent by the time they hit growth spurts and voice changes. 

They fell into each other, hugs hello turning into gentle pecks turning into sneaked hand jobs trying to stay quiet as their parents slept down the hall. They never really talked about what they were to each other because it was never really necessary. They were everything. 

*

Harry wakes up to a weight across his hips and a mouth that drags across his jaw before reaching his ear. “Harry?”

Harry smiles lazily, opening his eyes slowly and bringing his hands up to rest on Liam's hips where the other boy is straddling him. “Hey, babe,” he rasps, voice still thick with sleep. 

Liam grins down at him, and Harry thinks he looks kind of like an angel with the way the morning light streaks through the half-open curtains. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks, still smiling. 

“Surprise,” Harry says, taking his hands off Liam's hips and wiggling them on either side of his face in a sarcastic form of jazz hands. Liam laughs, grabs Harry's hands in his and presses them down to the mattress before leaning down and kissing him. 

Harry hums into the kiss, two months away from Liam's mouth being two months too long, even if he hasn't exactly been hard up in that time. He entwines their fingers together, squeezing Liam's hand when he feels Liam's tongue run along his bottom lip. Harry opens his mouth easily to Liam's tongue, even though his mouth probably tastes disgusting this early in the morning. Liam doesn't seem to care, releasing Harry's hands to run his down Harry's sides. Harry's hands move to Liam's hair, longer now than it was when he last saw it, a perfect length for Harry to twist his fingers in and make Liam's bedhead even worse. 

Liam's mouth leaves Harry's, biting down his neck till he reaches his collarbone and stalls, sucking and biting what will probably shape up to be a vicious love bite by the time he's through. He's grinding down on Harry's lap at the same time, and the half chub Harry’d been sporting since he woke up with Liam on top of him thickens in his pants. 

“Mm, gonna ride me, Li?” Harry asks, running his hands down Liam's back till they reach his ass, squeezing and starting to guide his rhythm until they're both gasping. 

“Nope,” Liam replies, pulling away from Harry's chest and surveying his handiwork. “Gonna fuck you.”

Well. That works too, Harry thinks as he moans, hands tightening on Liam's ass. “Yeah, fuck,” he breathes, thrusting up against Liam. 

Liam laughs at him. “Eager, are we?” he says, but he grinds back and Harry can feel he's just as hard as Harry is. 

“Can't help it, Liam,” he says, dragging out Liam's name till it's almost a whine. “Missed you.” 

Liam's eyes soften. “Missed you too,” he says. He leans in and gives Harry another kiss as his hand goes and digs through the bedside drawer until he comes up with a bottle of lube and a condom. He drops them on the mattress next to them, hands returning to Harry's body to rid him of his boxers. Before Harry can return the favor, Liam's moving down his body again. This time, he doesn't stop at Harry's collarbone, instead continuing down Harry's chest. He licks over one of Harry's nipples, then the other, causing Harry to let out a little moan, but he doesn't stay there long, moving past the butterfly tattoo on Harry's sternum with a simple kiss before licking down the thin stripe of hair below Harry's belly button until he reaches his dick. 

Harry twists his hands in the sheets, biting his lip as he looks down at Liam in between his knees. It's a sight Harry's missed, but he can't fully appreciate it before Liam's mouth is around his dick and Harry tosses his head back with a groan. Liam's always been good with his mouth, even when they were 16 and had no clue what they were doing, and he's only gotten better with age. He knows all the tricks to get Harry to the edge quickly, running his tongue over the vein on the underside and taking Harry's balls in one hand. Before long Harry's panting, hands releasing the sheets to tangle in Liam's hair. 

“Li--Liam, stop, I'm gonna--” he breaks off as Liam pulls off him, grinning up at him with his mouth wet and cheeks red. The sight sends another jolt of arousal down Harry's spine. Liam looks like he's about to get back to work, but Harry tugs on his hair again. “No. Want to come on your dick, Liam.”

“Fuck,” Liam swears, crawling back up the bed and fitting their mouths together again. His hand fumbles in the sheets until he unearths the bottle of lube, uncapping it and pouring a generous amount over his fingers. Harry chuckles at him but is quickly silenced when he feels one of Liam's fingers circling his hole. 

Harry doesn't really bottom when he's not with Liam, too complicated and, really, nothing feels as good as Liam does. Liam knows this, so he's gentle as he fingers Harry, pressing kisses to distract him as he stretches him. It's good, the burn, after going so long without it, so Harry eggs Liam on, moaning in his ear. 

“You ready, Haz?” Liam asks after he's fit three fingers inside him and Harry feels like he's going out of his mind waiting. 

“Yes, yes,” Harry says, hooking his legs around Liam's hips and pressing his ankles into Liam's ass. Liam smiles, unhooking Harry's legs for a second to finally remove his boxers. Harry grabs for the condom, ripping it open and reaching down to roll it over Liam, rubbing his hand up and down Liam’s length a few times before Liam grabs his wrist.

“Stop, or it’ll be over too soon,” he says, and Harry drops his hand, smirking. Liam rolls his eyes, lining himself up and pushing in. The smirk falls off Harry's face as he gasps at the stretch. Liam pushes in slowly, pressing kisses along Harry's cheek and breathing heavily in his ear. 

“Feel so good, Haz. Missed this,” he says against Harry's ear, biting down on his earlobe. 

“Fuck, missed you too, missed this, harder, please,” Harry pants, breaking into a moan as Liam starts thrusting into him harder. 

The room is filled with the noise of their heavy breaths and slapping skin. Liam shifts a bit and on the next thrust he hits Harry's prostate. Harry throws his head back on a loud moan, back arching as Liam stays at that angle and hits his prostate again and again. He feels the familiar feeling building in his stomach and reaches down to jerk himself off before Liam pushes his hand away and wraps his own around Harry’s dick. 

“You close, babe?” Liam asks, his hand moving at the same rhythm as his hips, and Harry can’t do much more than nod, wrapping a hand around the back of Liam’s neck and pulling him into a kiss while he feels like he’s shaking out of his skin. It takes a few more thrusts and Liam’s hand twisting over the head of Harry’s dick for him to come, shooting over Liam’s fist and his stomach. 

Liam groans, burying his face in Harry’s neck as he keeps thrusting. Harry can tell he’s getting close by the whimpers he’s letting out and he musters enough energy to run his hands up and down Liam's back, murmuring in his ear to _come on, Li, wanna see you come, babe_. Liam thrusts unevenly once, twice more before he stills and sinks his teeth into Harry's collarbone to mask his groan. 

He flops down on top of Harry for a bit, catching his breath. Harry continues rubbing his hand up and down the length of Liam's spine, occasionally dropping a kiss to the side of his head. Eventually, though, the mess on his stomach becomes too uncomfortable to ignore so he gently pushes at Liam's shoulder till he pulls out and rolls to the side, splaying out on the bed. Harry rolls his eyes. 

“You're useless, you know that?” he says, reaching over and grabbing his pants off the floor to wipe his stomach. Liam just waves a hand at him. 

“Shh, afterglow,” he says, eyes closed. “You're ruining it.”

“Yeah?” Harry replies. “You just gonna hang around with the condom on, then?”

Liam's eyes open then and he shoots a disgusted look at his crotch before he reaches down and pulls the condom off, tying it and tossing it in the general direction of the bin. Harry grimaces. 

“If I step on that later, I'm gonna kill you,” he says, but he makes no move to get it himself, choosing instead to cuddle up to Liam. Liam wraps an arm around him, his other hand coming up to flap around Harry's face. 

“Must you always speak this much,” he says, slapping at Harry. Harry squawks, grabbing Liam's hand. 

“Excuse me, Liam,” he says. “I'll have you know I--”

The rest of his sentence is muffled by Liam kissing him. Harry leans into it, closing his eyes and taking his fill of Liam's mouth. It's always so _easy_ with Liam--the sex, the banter, the just _being_ that comes with knowing a person practically better than they know themselves. Everything about Liam feels like home, and though Harry wouldn't change his life for anything, he never feels more comfortable than when lying in bed with Liam like now. 

They pull back from the kiss slowly, Harry opening his eyes to find Liam looking back at him, smiling. 

“Hi,” Harry whispers, loathe to break the soft silence around them. 

“Hey,” Liam says back. “I thought you weren't supposed to be home till the weekend.” It's true, Harry was planning on staying in LA for the rest of the week to see some friends and get some writing done, but at the last minute he decided he was craving a good cup of tea and, possibly, a warm pair of brown eyes looking at him from across the table. 

“Got an early flight, straight after the show last night. Thought I’d see how Mother England is doing without me,” Harry says. 

“And how do you find her?” Liam asks, a glint in his eye. 

Harry stretches a bit, smiling at the slight ache in his muscles. 

“Quite alright so far, I reckon.” 

Liam smiles, grabbing the duvet from the end of the bed and pulling it over the both of them. “C’mon then, should have time for a bit of a kip before Tommo gets home,” he says, and Harry wants to ask where Louis is right now if it's not the bedroom down the hall but then decides he really doesn't need to know what Louis could be doing that would get him out of bed before eleven in the morning. Instead, he rests his head back on Liam’s shoulder and closes his eyes. 

*

When Harry is 17, Liam and Louis move away for university and he tries out for The X Factor, in that order. Losing his best mate and his best-mate-who-doubles-as-a-sort-of-boyfriend at the same time is rough, even though Harry’s not exactly unpopular in his class at school. They hold a career day where a bunch of people come in and tell them what sorts of A Levels they’ll need to take if they want to become a teacher, or an accountant, or a lawyer, and although Harry had always thought he’d like to be one of those things, when the day comes he finds he really doesn’t have any interest. His teacher sits him down and asks him what he’s passionate about, and the only thing he can think of is the feeling he gets when he and Liam and Louis sit around and sing along to the radio, or that time they did a karaoke night and the whole pub gave them a standing ovation. 

“I want to be a singer,” he says. His teacher gently tells him that maybe he should look into something more practical. Harry ignores her. His mum says that he can audition for The X Factor once, but if it doesn’t work out he’s going to buckle down and go back to school. Harry agrees. He leaves home to audition and never really goes back, finishing third and getting signed by Simon almost immediately. Louis and Liam supported him the whole way, and just before Harry went to America to record his first single, he and Liam sat down and had a conversation. They agreed that it would be too hard for them to keep up their relationship long distance, that they didn’t want to risk losing their friendship. So it made sense that when Harry was away, they saw other people. They’re the same as they always are when they’re together--Harry guesses you could call them friends with benefits, but he doesn’t think that really encompasses what they mean to each other. Louis calls them idiots, which, well, probably isn’t all that inaccurate. 

It’s not really that big of a deal. Harry is happy. Liam is happy--well, Harry’s pretty sure Liam is happy. So Louis can just shut it. 

*

The next time Harry wakes, it’s before Liam, and he watches as Liam slowly blinks awake. 

“Creep,” Liam says, once his eyes focus on Harry. Harry just smiles, pulls the duvet back up from where it had fallen in their sleep, and kisses Liam. He’s still kissing Liam when he hears the front door slam, Louis’ voice coming down the hall shortly after. 

“Payno!” he calls. “It’s almost noon, you still sleeping?” His voice gets closer. “What the hell is keeping you in bed so late?” Harry smiles just as Louis opens the door to Liam’s bedroom, pulling away from Liam’s mouth to look over at his other best friend. Louis stands in the door a moment, shocked, before he breaks into a huge grin. 

“Harry!” he shouts, accent growing thick over the name. 

“Louis!” Harry yells back, reaching his arm out for a hug. Louis takes two steps towards him before stopping, casting a wary glance over their bodies, obviously naked under the duvet. 

“Alright,” he says. “You’re both putting pants on before I get involved in that.”

Harry pouts at him, then pouts at Liam when Louis doesn’t budge. Liam sighs, rolls over and reaches off the side of the bed towards a pile of laundry that Harry cannot determine the cleanliness of and comes back with two pairs of boxers. He tosses one at Harry before shuffling around under the duvet to pull his own pair up. Harry does the same, and he’s barely got them over his hips before Louis is diving on top of him on the bed, wrapping his arms around him and squeezing. Harry squeezes him back and then the three of them are shifting around until they’re in a more comfortable position, Louis in the middle and Harry resting his head on his shoulder, one arm reached across his chest to grip Liam’s hand. It’s the way they’ve slept at countless sleepovers and camping trips over the years, tangled up in each other, and Harry smiles at the familiarity before a throat is cleared in the doorway. 

Harry turns, facing a boy in the doorway that he’s never seen before. He’s brunette, with glasses, and looking at the three of them with a confused look on his face. “Um, Louis?” he says, and Harry notes the Irish accent in his voice. “Care to explain?”

“Hm?” Louis replies, looking over to the door. “Oh! Niall, this is Harry, the third pea in my and Li’s pod. Harry, this is Niall, he’s, uh, well, my--”

“His _boyfriend_ ,” Liam says from Louis’ other side, teasing note to his voice and grin splitting his face. Harry gasps. 

“Your _what_? Since when?” he exclaims. Louis blushes a bit, and Harry shares a look with Liam. Louis’ made fun of them too many times over the years for them not to get him back a little bit. 

“About a month, okay? You were away,” Louis says, and Niall clears his throat again. 

“Yeah, about that. When were you going to tell me you knew Harry Styles? And on a well enough basis that he’s naked in bed with Liam on a Tuesday morning?”

Louis looks around, seemingly taking in the scene for the first time. “Huh, did I forget to mention?”

Harry shares another look with Liam and bursts out laughing. He’s really glad to be home. 

*

Harry gets out of the shower about half an hour later, grabbing some clothes from his duffel and throwing them on before heading down the hall towards the kitchen. He can hear Liam, Louis, and Niall talking, and he presumes it’s about him based on the tone of Niall’s whisper-shouting and the frequency he’s shushed by Louis. He walks into the kitchen, faced with Liam sat at the bar looking amused, Louis and Niall arguing in whispers by the stove, where it looks like Niall’s cooking up breakfast. 

“Alright?” Harry asks, heading towards where Liam is sitting, dropping his chin on Liam’s shoulder and wrapping his arms round his waist. Niall and Louis stop talking immediately, and Niall turns a vivid shade of red before turning back to the stove. Liam’s shoulder shakes with laughter under Harry’s chin. 

“All good, it’s just that Nialler’s a bit of a fan and is embarrassed,” Liam explains to Harry in an undertone. Harry smiles, and it widens when Niall splutters across the kitchen. 

“I can _hear_ you!” he says, turning around and waving his spatula at Liam. “And you’re not any better!” he continues as he gestures the spatula at Louis, who puts his hands up in innocence but can’t fully hide the snickers coming out of his mouth. “You’re both wankers.” Niall concludes, turning back to the stove and flipping the eggs over with a bit more force than necessary. 

“Well, it’s lovely to meet you, Niall,” Harry drawls, squeezing Liam’s waist to get him to stop giggling. “And I’m sorry to tell you that if you hurt Louis I’ll have to kill you.” 

Niall plates up the eggs, walking over and placing one in front of Liam. “Was a lot scarier when Liam gave me that talk, mate. You’re not much of a threat with your noodle body.” Liam snorts into his eggs and Louis cackles from across the room where he’s pouring a cup of tea. 

“There you are, Neil! Thought we’d lost you,” Louis laughs, and Harry pouts, slumping away from Liam into the stool next to him and pulling his phone out. Liam laughs at him again and hands him a banana from the fruit bowl on his other side, which does well to cheer up his mood, as does the text from his mum that pops up when he checks his phone. He turns to Liam, kicking lightly at his ankles. 

“My mum wants me to come up this weekend. You in?” he asks, reaching over and stealing a strip of bacon off Liam’s plate. Liam just hums into his cup of tea. 

“Yeah, alright,” he shrugs, putting his mug down. “Mum’ll be glad to see me.”

“Great, Karen’s gonna cry,” Harry smiles, already texting his mum back. “D’you have class on Friday?” 

“Mm,” Liam hums again. “Work experience. They’re having me shadow Capital Breakfast.”

Harry looks up. “You know I could--” he starts. 

“No, Harry,” Liam cuts him off. “I’m studying Media and Communications so that I can graduate and get a career in radio _on my own_ , not so I can use the fact that my best mate is best mates with Nick Grimshaw and get a job off him.”

“I’m just saying, Li, it’s like--networking, or whatever, you’ve got the connections, you should use them,” Harry says. It’s an old argument, one Harry doesn’t really understand Liam’s objections to. He just wants to help Liam out, and it’s not like Nick would _mind_ putting in a good word, since he owes Harry about a million favors at this point. But no matter how many times he’s suggested it, Liam always shoots him down and says something incomprehensible about not using him for his fame, whatever the hell that means. Liam shakes his head again, and Harry just sighs and lets it go, not wanting to deal with Liam being pissed at him when he’s only home for a few weeks.

“You boys going to Holmes this weekend?” Louis asks, sipping at his own cup of tea and leaning against the counter. Harry looks up at him. 

“Yeah, you want to come?” Harry asks. “Mum would love to have you.” It’s been rough the past year, for Louis--for all of them, really--losing Jay. She was like a second mum to Harry, and he misses her warmth and kindness every day. He’d only been able to take a few days off from tour to attend her funeral, flying in late at night and crawling into bed next to Louis and Liam like they were ten years old again. Before he left after the wake he made Liam and his mum promise to look after Louis, since he couldn’t from so far away. They had, and the past month or so Louis’ voice on the phone had started to sound lighter, happier. Looking over at Niall now, Harry wonders how much that happiness had to do with Liam and with Harry’s mum, and just how much had to do with Niall.

“Would love to, but, uh, Niall’s mates are doing a gig this weekend,” Louis answers, breaking through Harry’s thoughts. “Give my love to Anne though, alright? And maybe stop by and see the kids, tell ‘em hi from me.”

“Course we will,” Harry says, and then, just because he can, he walks around the counter and grabs Louis up in a big hug, squeezing until Louis starts cursing in his ear and yelling for mercy. “I missed you, Lou! I just want to give my best mate a hug!” Harry laughs.

“Fucking hell, go hug Liam, you great big baby,” Louis says, finally freeing himself but not before giving Harry a quick squeeze back. Harry does as he’s told, heading over to Liam and wrapping one arm around his waist, but he brings the other hand up to his chin and pulls him in for a soft kiss instead. Liam hums into the kiss, bringing a hand up to Harry’s waist and the other up to wrap lightly around his wrist. 

“Oh, put it away,” Louis says, and Harry laughs against Liam’s mouth, giving him one last peck before pulling back. He looks at Louis, who’s got his arms crossed. He points a finger at the both of them. “We’re doing a pub night tonight, and I don’t want none of that, alright?”

Harry pouts. “But I’ve just come home.”

“I’ve had to put up with the two of you for the last month,” Liam says at the same time. “I never get to have any fun.”

“Ugh, not the eyes. I swear, between the two of you, it’s like having puppies for mates,” Louis says, turning and placing his empty mug in the sink. “No snogging tonight, okay? For anyone.”

“What? Who said I agreed to that?” Niall asks, taking the pans to the sink and getting started on the dishes. Louis gives him a quick peck and he seems satisfied with that. Liam sends Harry a look, and Harry buries his face in Liam’s shoulder to hide a laugh. Of course Louis’ already got Niall wrapped around his finger, just like everyone else in his life. Of course.

*

That night, Harry joins the boys at their local, soaking in the atmosphere of London after being away for so long. He stuffs one of Liam’s beanies over his curls and hopes it’s enough of a cover to keep fans at bay--one too many nights out with the lads has gone awry when Harry’s been mobbed by fans, or worse, paps. He hadn’t had any trouble at the airport last night, though, and Jeff had texted him earlier that the Twitter fan accounts still thought he was in LA. Sometimes it’s strange to think that there are people who actually spend time tracking his whereabouts and what he does, but Harry tries not to pay attention to those parts of fame. Louis loves it, though, and follows some of the update accounts, occasionally sending Harry some of the more outrageous rumors they post. Harry thinks it’s partly for this reason that Louis pulls his phone out as soon as they get to the table with their first round, bringing up the camera app. 

“Lou, no,” Harry groans as Louis tells them to get close for a selfie. Louis just rolls his eyes and tells him to _get in the goddamn picture, Harold_. Harry pulls the face he always does when fans ask for selfies, mouth closed and eyes wide, and this time both Louis and Liam groan. 

“None of that frog face crap, Harry!” Louis says. “A real smile! Liam, help me, please.”

Liam reaches over to where Harry is sat right next to him and starts poking and prodding at him, “C’mon, Hazza, it’ll be over sooner if you smile,” he says, flashing his own grin. Harry can’t help but smile when Liam’s got his eyes crinkled up like that, and he turns back to Louis with a grin, dimples popping out of his cheeks. Louis snaps the photo and then brings the phone in for them all to look at. Deeming it adequate, Louis posts it to his Instagram before dropping his phone on the table. 

“Now,” Louis says, taking a pull from his beer. “Tell us about tour, you big rockstar.”

Harry dives into catching them up on everything he did and saw since they were last together, about two months ago now. They talk on the phone and text when he’s away on tour, but usually only for a few minutes at a time since Harry so rarely gets time to himself and the time differences are difficult. Harry soon discovers Niall is passionate about music as well, sometimes performing at open mic nights at the pub or filling in for the guitarist in his mate’s band, and they also share a lot of the same taste. They’re in the middle of a deep discussion about Don Henley when they’re interrupted by Louis banging his head on the table. 

“Jesus, I should’ve known introducing you was a bad idea. Harry, it’s your round,” he says, head still resting on the table. Niall lifts a hand and pats his back consolingly. Harry snorts but still moves to head to the bar, Liam stepping out first to let him pass. Harry makes sure to brush up against Liam as he passes, feeling a bit loose with the two beers already in him. 

“Have I told you yet how fit you look?” Harry mumbles against Liam’s ear, and Liam just laughs and swats him in the side. 

“Go buy me a beer and then I’ll let you chat me up,” he says, moving to slide back into the booth. 

“I’m taking that as a promise, Liam Payne,” Harry says, walking to the bar. He leans up against it when he gets there, signalling the bartender for another round. When the bartender nods, he turns back, resting his elbow on the bar and looking out at the other people in the pub. It’s not too crowded, Tuesday night as it is, and Harry lets his eyes scan over his booth where Niall’s got his head tossed back in laughter at something Louis’s saying, Liam giggling as well. His gaze passes on to the rest of the patrons, a group of older men watching an old footie match on the screen hanging off one wall, a few people who look like they just got off work, and a couple other groups who look to be uni students as well. One girl catches his eye and smiles at him, and he smiles back, because she’s pretty cute and if Harry weren’t here with Liam he’d probably try it on with her. As it is, though, he simply turns back to the bar to grab his drinks, but before he can do that, a hand lands on his shoulder. He turns around and comes face to face with the girl from before. 

“Hi,” she says, tugging at the end of her hair a little nervously. 

“Hey, you alright?” Harry asks. He can see she’s got her phone in her hand, so he’s pretty sure she’s not trying to chat him up.

“Yeah, um, I was just wondering if I could like, get a picture? With you?” she asks, and Harry casts another glance over to his table. The boys are still chatting amongst themselves, so he agrees to the picture. 

“Yeah, course,” he says, leaning into her when she pulls up her camera and letting her snap the photo. “If you don’t mind, could you not post that until later?” he asks, and she nods, starting to walk back to her friends. “Wait,” he says. “What’s your name?” 

“Um, Natalie.”

“Have a great night, Natalie. Your next round is on me, okay?”

She nods quickly, eyes wide, and then rushes off back to her friends. Harry quickly sorts the tab with the bartender and then grabs their drinks, walking carefully back to the lads. 

“Took you a while,” Louis says when he gets there, grabbing two of the pints for him and Niall. Harry slides back into the booth with the other two. 

“Who was that girl?” Liam asks quietly. Harry glances across the table and sees that Louis and Niall are wrapped up in their own conversation, so he turns himself more fully to Liam. 

“Oh, was just a fan. Natalie. Bought her and her friends some drinks so she doesn’t post our picture until tomorrow,” Harry responds, and maybe he’s imagining it but he thinks Liam’s shoulders get a bit less hunched. “Now,” he says, moving even closer to Liam and talking right up against his ear, one hand dropping to his thigh. “I bought you a beer, remind me what happens next?”

Liam smirks next to him, twisting his own head so his face is practically buried in Harry’s neck. “I think this is the part where we finish our drinks, say bye to our friends, and then you take me home and fuck me into the mattress.”

Harry bites his lip, holding back a groan at the wicked look on Liam’s face and takes a long pull of his beer. Liam laughs, drinking from his own beer, and drops his hand to rest on top of Harry’s on his thigh. He starts tracing patterns on the back of Harry’s hand as he leans forward and asks Niall about something in the Music Theory class they share, but Harry can’t bring himself to focus. His mind is racing with thoughts of what he and Liam could be doing alone in a bed right now. Or, well, maybe the bed isn’t necessary. Neither is the “alone” bit. Maybe he should see if Liam’s up for heading to the loos. He’s just about to lean over and ask when Liam grabs his hand and squeezes a bit. 

“Hm?” Harry says, looking up across the table at Louis and Niall, who are both smirking like they know exactly what he was thinking of only seconds before. 

“Was just saying that we were heading out,” Niall says, laughter audible in his voice. “Lou’s coming back with me, so.” He pauses, then shrugs.

“Oh, well, uh, be safe?” Harry says, and Liam snorts next to him. 

“Jesus, Harry,” he mutters. “Bye, lads, we’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Louis and Niall nod, and the next minute they’re out the door with goodbyes called behind them. Liam turns back to Harry. “Be safe? What the hell?” he asks with a laugh. 

“Well, I don’t know!” Harry defends himself. “It’s, like, a bit weird, innit? Never really seen Lou that serious about anyone.”

“Yeah,” Liam says, a bit softer. “But, like, Niall’s really good for him, you know? Loves him a lot, even though I don’t think they’ve said that yet. I mean, Niall basically crushed on him for all of last term before making a move. And Louis’s been a lot better since they got together, more carefree like he used to be.”

Harry nods. “I’m glad he’s doing well. You too, like, with the Capital thing. I’m sorry about earlier, I know you don’t like it when I do things like that.”

“It’s not that I don’t want you doing nice things for me, Haz,” Liam says, taking another pull from his beer. “It’s just--I don’t think you really get it, like, for you it just seems like a favor or something, but for me it feels like--charity. And I don’t want to be charity to you.”

Harry squeezes Liam’s thigh. “Liam, you have to know I would never think that about you, okay? Me talking you up to Grimmy or whoever isn’t because I feel some sort of obligation to you, it’s because I genuinely think you’re amazing and I think other people should know that too. But if it really makes you that uncomfortable I won’t do it anymore.”

Liam smiles at him, and Harry thinks he looks a bit relieved. Harry had had no idea the extent to which Liam disliked when Harry tried to help him out--thinking he was _charity? Seriously?_ Harry thinks. It leaves a bad taste in his mouth when he thinks about it. He shakes his head to clear himself of the thought and takes a final pull from his beer, which is now almost empty. He turns back to Liam when he’s done. 

“How about we get out of here?” he says, and just stops himself from leaning in and kissing Liam when he agrees. 

*

He doesn’t have to stop himself later, when he and Liam fall through the door to Liam’s flat in a tangle of limbs, Harry kicking the door shut with his heel before pressing Liam up against the wall next to it. He kisses Liam roughly, getting a knee in between Liam’s so his thigh is snug against Liam’s crotch. Liam grinds down against him, already half-hard in his jeans. Harry moves to start biting down Liam’s neck, Liam gasping above him. Harry pushes his hips into Liam, rutting his dick against Liam’s hips clumsily a few times before he pulls back entirely. Liam looks at him curiously, panting slightly with his hair messed up and a love bite blooming on the hinge of his jaw. Harry thinks he’s never seen anything more beautiful. 

“Bedroom,” Harry says, and the confusion on Liam’s face clears. He nods once before grabbing Harry’s wrist and pulling him along to his bedroom, flicking on the light before turning and now Harry finds himself pressed against the door in a reversal of their earlier roles, Liam taking his turn to kiss Harry hungrily. His hands rest lightly on Harry’s hips, not touching him the way Harry would like, and he whines, his own hands gripping Liam’s neck as he pushes his tongue into Liam’s mouth. Liam pulls back, shaking his head. 

“I want,” he starts, pressing a chaste kiss to Harry’s lips. “To go slow.” Harry whines again, not afraid to look needy in front of Liam. 

“Leeyum,” he says, dragging Liam’s name out petulantly. “We have time to be slow later. Now, though,” he smirks, dropping his hands down to squeeze Liam’s ass through his jeans. “I thought you said something about me fucking you.” He squeezes again, harder this time, bringing Liam flush against him and grinding slowly. Liam groans, eyes fluttering shut for a second. 

“Yeah,” he says, stopping to catch his breath. “That’s alright, I suppose.” Harry snorts. 

“You suppose?” he asks, moving his hands from Liam’s ass to the hem of his shirt and teasing it, lifting it up just enough to flash the cut of his hipbones before dropping it back down. Liam looks at him, a challenge in his eyes. 

“Well, you need to prove to me it’s worth it.” Harry makes a noise at the back of his throat, Liam able to draw out his competitive side when most know him for his laid back demeanor. He pushes Liam backwards, towards the bed, reaching down and stripping his own shirt off before stepping after him. He steps right into Liam’s space, pushing him again so he falls back onto the bed, bouncing a little. 

“Get your clothes off,” he instructs, still standing at the end of the bed. Liam raises one eyebrow. 

“You gonna make me?” he says, and Harry would be lying if he said the cocky tone to his voice didn’t send a jolt straight to his dick. He doesn’t let Liam know this, though, instead keeping his face impassive and staring Liam down. 

“Don’t think you’ll like it if you don’t,” he says, relieved when his voice comes out steady. Liam looks at him for one moment longer, probably trying to catch his bluff, but Harry stays steadfast and Liam reaches down to unbutton his jeans. He might be following Harry’s instruction, but that doesn’t mean he’s doing it with any sort of urgency. Instead, he takes his time, slowly undoing the button and zip of his trousers but leaving them there, hanging open as the bulge of his dick in his pants rests in the gap of his jeans. He moves his hands to the hem of his shirt, flirting with it like Harry had earlier, lifting it up just a tad before letting it fall back down, hands rubbing up and down his thighs but not doing anything to remove his clothing. 

“Off,” Harry says, and his voice comes out thick and practically unrecognizable. Liam’s eyes glint with something like victory before he finally, _finally_ , lifts his shirt over his head and drops it over the side of the bed. His pants are still hanging off his hips, but he makes no move to discard them, instead running his hands along his chest, playing with one nipple for a second before moving along to toy with the hair at his lower stomach. He never stays in one place long enough to give himself any real pleasure, teasing the both of them, and Harry’s so hard in his jeans he’s afraid he’s going to break the zipper. He brings a hand down to palm himself roughly for a second before dropping it back down to his side. Despite his earlier urging, he does want to make this last, and coming in his trousers before they’ve even started isn’t exactly the way Harry wants to go. He steps forward again so he’s standing in between Liam’s legs where they hang slightly off the bed, and reaches for Liam’s hips. He grasps Liam’s waistband, fingers slipping under the fabric to brush against his skin. Liam looks at him, smirk on his face and challenging look in his eyes. Harry rolls his eyes at him before pulling his jeans down, Liam lifting his hips up off the bed to help. Harry pulls them off most of the way, leaving Liam to kick them off his calves while Harry kneels up on the bed and looks at him. 

Liam’s panting, flush running down his neck and onto his chest, though it’s hidden a bit by his chest hair. His lips are red and bruised, eyes blown wide so Harry can barely see the brown in them. His hands are resting by his hips, waiting for Harry to do something, and his legs are spread to accommodate Harry between them. And his _dick_ \--Harry bites his lip when he looks down, Liam’s dick trapped in his black briefs but very obviously hard. Liam notices him looking and bucks his hips. 

“Well?” he says, attitude still cocky even if his voice is rough and raspy. 

“Just looking,” Harry says with a cheeky grin. “You know all this world travelling has taught me how to appreciate a good view.”

Liam laughs, moving his hands away from the bed to wrap around Harry’s neck. “Come here, you idiot,” he says, and smiles against Harry’s mouth when they kiss. It starts chaste, but soon enough turns heated, Harry dropping his hips so they press against Liam’s. He pulls away from Liam’s mouth to kiss down his chest, stopping to take one nipple in his mouth, rolling it between his teeth while he does the same to the other with his fingers. Liam throws his head back, groaning, hands twisting in the sheets. Harry moves to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment before moving further down Liam’s torso. He drags his tongue through the lines of Liam’s abs, sucking a bruise just above the waistband of his pants. 

“Christ, you’re so fit,” he says, pulling back to get his hands around the edges of Liam’s briefs to pull them down. Liam reaches down and stops him. 

“You first,” he says, batting Harry’s hands away so he can get at the fly of Harry’s jeans. He pops the button and unzips him, laughing a little breathlessly when Harry’s dick pops out of his trousers. “No pants?”

“You know I find them restricting,” Harry says only a bit huffily. Liam laughs at him again all the same. 

“The only things restricting,” Liam grunts, “are these damn jeans.” He succeeds in tugging them down to Harry’s knees and Harry stands up to pull them the rest of the way off, falling back on top of Liam when he’s finished, both of them letting out a groan as their cocks rub together. Liam throws an arm out to the side, scrambling against the bedside table to try to get the drawer open as Harry finally gets Liam’s pants off and on the floor next to the rest of their clothes. Harry chuckles into his neck, which only makes Liam reach his other hand up to hit Harry on the side.

“Hey!” Harry exclaims. “That’s no way to treat your bed partner.” Liam rolls his eyes.

“Like you don’t love it,” he says, and Harry stays quiet because, well, some of his best ever orgasms came out of Liam getting a bit rough with him in bed. “Now get the lube and a condom and fucking _fuck me_ already, Styles.” Harry surges up and plants a kiss to Liam’s lips, hand reaching out and getting the drawer open, pulling out the lube and condoms from where they left them there this morning. 

“Mm, so sexy when you get feisty, babe,” Harry says, dropping kiss after kiss to Liam’s mouth even as he pops the cap on the lube. He drizzles it over his fingers, rubbing them together a bit before bringing them down between Liam’s legs. “You good?” he asks. Liam rolls his eyes again, reaching down and grabbing Harry’s wrist, leading his hand to his hole.

“I’ll be good if you get in me,” he practically growls, and then he uses his grip on Harry’s hand to push Harry’s finger inside of him. He groans immediately, head falling back and hand going slack around Harry’s wrist. Harry watches him closely, hand rocking back and forth slowly. When Liam opens his eyes again and makes eye contact, nodding slightly, he pulls his hand out, only to push back in with two fingers. Liam groans again, and Harry leans down to suck a bruise against his clavicle as he scissors his fingers, stretching Liam slowly. Liam whines, kicking his legs out against the sheets as he writhes on Harry’s hand. 

“You wanted slow, right?” Harry chuckles, reaching his other hand out to still Liam’s hips from where they’re thrusting shallowly back and forth on his fingers. He teases his third finger against Liam’s rim, but doesn’t press it inside just yet. Liam glares at him. 

“ _Harry_ ,” he starts, frustration clear in his voice, but then his face clears and he draws Harry in for a slow kiss. Harry pulls away, suspicious, but Liam doesn’t let him get far, instead speaking directly into Harry’s ear. “Please, Haz, I’m ready. Need it, need you in me, _please_ ,” he moans, hole clenching around Harry’s fingers at the same time, and he’s playing _dirty_. Harry can’t say he dislikes it, though, so he just grabs for the condom where it’s resting next to Liam’s hip and tears the packet open with his teeth. He removes his fingers from Liam to roll the condom on, slicking himself with more lube as he goes. He lines himself up, pausing with the head of his dick resting at Liam’s rim and waiting for Liam’s nod before he slowly pushes inside. Liam sqeezes his bicep when he’s about halfway in, face scrunching up. 

“Wait,” he pants. “Just--wait.” Harry pauses, dropping kisses on Liam’s forehead, eyelids, cheeks, _wherever_ while Liam adjusts. If Harry’s being honest, he probably needs the pause too because Liam is _tight_ and hot around Harry, and he needs to take a few deep breaths so he doesn’t just nut off immediately. After a moment his shoulders relax and he opens his eyes again, nodding. “Okay,” he says. “I’m good.”

“You sure?” Harry asks, rocking his hips gently to get Liam used to the feeling. 

“Yeah,” Liam breathes, and moans a little as Harry pushes himself in all the way. Harry starts thrusting shallowly, trying to avoid just pounding into Liam like part of him wants to. It’s so good, always is with Liam, and Liam laughs a bit breathlessly when Harry says that to him. “You too, babe, feels good. Faster,” he says, and Harry can’t do anything but obey. 

He balances himself on his elbows on either side of Liam’s head and picks up the pace of his hips, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. On one particular thrust Liam moans so loud he’s practically shouting, nails digging into Harry’s shoulders hard and more pre-come blurting from the head of his dick. Harry keeps his hips at that angle, trying to hit Liam’s prostate again and again. Liam’s moaning nearly constantly now, and Harry’s always loved the way Liam can’t control the noises he makes when it’s really good. 

“God, babe, one day I’m gonna record these noises you make,” Harry pants, thrusting in faster as the familiar feeling coils in the bottom of his stomach. “Gonna put them in a fucking song so everyone can hear how desperate you get for me. You want that?” Liam lets out a high pitched whine, hips canting up to meet Harry’s thrusts.

“Please, Harry, so close,” he says, burying his head in Harry’s neck and mouthing along his collarbone, sinking his teeth in on a particularly hard thrust. Harry groans, reaching a hand down to wrap around Liam’s cock where it’s hard and flushed and practically dripping against his stomach. He starts jacking him off the way he likes, fast and a bit sloppy, until Liam’s dragging his nails down Harry’s back in rough lines. Harry hisses at the sensation.

“C’mon, babe, want you to come first,” he groans into Liam’s shoulder, hips now moving at a frantic pace as he chases his own release. He pulls at Liam’s dick once, twice more before Liam lets out an almighty shout that might be Harry’s name and spills between their stomachs, teeth sinking into Harry’s shoulder so hard he might break skin. His hole clenches around Harry as he comes, gripping Harry’s dick like a vice and Harry can’t hold back any longer, thrusting in one last time before he comes into the condom. 

Harry collapses on top of Liam, both of them breathing heavily. They’re both disgusting, sweaty and sticky and Harry will probably have raised marks on his back for days from Liam’s nails, but Harry still feels boneless and light from his orgasm so he makes no attempt to move. He catches his breath slowly, Liam running a hand gently up and down his side, and eventually moves just enough to get off Liam’s chest, falling over onto his side. Liam smirks at him a little, getting out of bed and Harry watches as he walks to the bathroom, returning after a few minutes with his stomach wiped off and a wet flannel for Harry. Harry takes it from him with a grin, wiping down his belly and getting rid of the condom before flopping back on the bed, reaching out for Liam and making grabby hands towards him. 

Liam snorts, heading to his dresser first and slipping on a pair of pants before climbing under the covers next to Harry. Harry turns around and snuggles back into Liam, reaching to move Liam’s arm around his waist and sighing happily when they’re successfully spooning. Liam presses a light kiss to his neck and mumbles a goodnight, and Harry closes his eyes and falls into an easy slumber. 

*

Harry wakes up the next morning to the sound of Liam’s alarm blaring, letting out a low groan as Liam reaches around him to silence it. 

“Too early,” Harry mutters, face still smashed into the pillow. 

“Sorry,” Liam says, dropping a kiss onto Harry’s cheek. “Got class.” Harry lets out an even louder groan at that. 

“Nooo,” he whines, moving just enough to grab Liam’s wrist and keep him from getting out of the bed. “Stay.” Forming full sentences is still beyond Harry’s current capabilities, but he thinks he musters up a pretty formidable pout when Liam looks at him. Harry’s forgotten that Liam is mostly immune to that pout at this point, and Liam simply shakes his head before freeing himself from Harry’s grip and standing up. 

“Can’t, it’s a graduation requirement and attendance is mandatory. I’ve got lunch with a couple of the guys from the track team after, so I’ll probably be back around 4,” Liam says, slipping a shirt over his head before heading to the bathroom and brushing his teeth. 

“That’s so _long_ , Liam, what am I supposed to do?” Harry whines, flopping over onto his back. 

“’Alk ’o ’rimmy,” Liam says in the bathroom, words garbled by the toothbrush in his mouth. Harry still understands him, though, and it’s not a half-bad idea, since it’s been months since he’s seen Nick and the gang. He’s already got his phone out and is halfway through a text proposing lunch when he hears Liam spit into the sink, the tap running a second later and then Liam walks back into the room. Harry watches as he pulls on a pair of jeans. He hadn’t had time to shave this morning, so Harry contemplates the line of stubble on his jaw, half jealous since he still can’t seem to grow more than a few sparse hairs on his top lip and half admiring because he knows exactly how that stubble feels rubbing against the insides of his thighs. Liam glances over at him, and then sighs as if he can tell exactly what Harry’s thinking. 

“No time, Harry,” he says, just as Harry’s about to open his mouth and suggest they try and squeeze in a quickie before Liam leaves. 

“I didn’t say anything!” Harry says, innocent smile on his face. Liam rolls his eyes at him before putting one knee on the bed and leaning in. Harry meets him halfway, hand on the side of his face as they kiss, but Liam pulls away before Harry can turn it dirty the way he wants to. 

“I’ll be back at 4,” Liam tells him, dropping in for one more quick kiss before he gets off the bed and heads for the door. 

“Have a nice day, honey!” Harry calls after him. 

“You too, sweetums!” Liam yells back, and Harry laughs, falling back onto the bed with a wide smile on his face. 

*

Nick lets out a low whistle as he gets in the car outside of the BBC studios, immediately reaching over and pressing his fingers into the place where Harry’s neck meets his shoulder. “Get attacked by a rogue animal, have we? Or are you suddenly very into leeching as a method of detoxing?”

Harry pushes his hand away, pulling down the car visor to look in the mirror, coming face to face with a particularly vicious love bite. “Neither,” he says, pushing the visor back up and turning the car on. “Just Liam.”

Nick rolls his eyes from the passenger seat. “You’re insatiable, I swear.”

“Hm,” Harry hums. “Do you want to go to that Greek place?” Nick agrees, so Harry starts driving towards their favorite bistro. Nick’s quiet on the ride over, fiddling with Harry’s radio so he can play whatever song’s taken his fancy this week. There are a few people hanging around outside the restaurant but luckily none of them are paps, so they duck inside quickly. The hostess obviously recognizes them, her eyes going wide when they walk in together and she immediately takes them to a table towards the back of the restaurant, away from prying eyes. Harry shoots her a grateful smile when she seats them and gives them their menus, and she turns bright red and scurries back to the front of the restaurant. 

“I bet she’s got a poster of you up in her room,” Nick comments, opening up the menu and scanning it. “And she’s probably texting her friends right now that we’re here on a date.”

Harry laughs. “You wish this was a date, Grimshaw,” he shoots back, opening his own menu even though he orders the same thing every time they come here. He had never really hidden his sexuality from his fans, and an unfortunate incident with some paps and a boy in a club bathroom in America pretty much guaranteed that Harry Styles was into boys and girls and everything in between. The rather unwelcome side effect of that was that any time Harry was pictured with any of his friends in public there’s a frenzy trying to figure out if Harry is dating them. He’s grown used to it, though, sending Grimmy funny articles about how they’re in a long-term relationship that’s slowly falling apart because of Harry’s promiscuous ways. 

“Are you not paying, then?” Nick asks. “You know, with your big popstar salary?”

“Left my wallet at home, soz,” Harry says, cheeky grin on his face. Nick laughs at him. 

“Home, hmm. Would that be your home or Liam’s flat?”

Harry flushes, but before he can answer their waiter comes around for their order. Harry gets his usual, despite taking a few extra seconds hemming and hawing over the menu. Nick orders as well, and then turns his shrewd gaze on Harry after the waiter leaves. 

“Really, Harry. Have you even been back to your flat?”

Harry sighs. “You know I hate being there alone. And Liam and Louis’ place has got, well, Liam and Louis, so it's easier to just go there.”

“And you can't invite them to your place? You know, the super nice flat you bought that's basically been empty ever since? Rather than staying in their shitty student accommodation?”

“It's too far for them to get to school from my place,” Harry rolls his eyes. “Why does it even matter? It's not like I'm making you hang out there.”

“Thank God for that,” Nick says dramatically. “I'm not sure I could handle seeing the place where Louis Tomlinson sleeps.” Harry laughs. Nick and Louis’ relationship had always been a bit strained, something to do with getting off on the wrong foot and now they mostly interact through half-serious insults and occasionally teaming up to take the piss out of Harry. 

“He’s got a boyfriend now, you know,” Harry says excitedly, always ready to share gossip with Nick. 

“Oh really?” Nick asks, leaning forward and crossing his arms on the table. “What’s that like?”

“A bit weird,” Harry admits, slumping back in his seat. “Like, it’s good though. The guy, Niall, he’s dead nice and likes Louis a lot and Lou seems happier now than he was, but like--I didn’t even _know_. He came in yesterday with Lou and I had no idea who he was. And he didn’t what the hell I was doing there either. And it just feels like, I don’t know, I was left out a bit.”

Nick hums sympathetically. “I don’t think it’s like that. How long have they been together?”

“Li says about a month.”

“A month isn’t that long, Harry. Louis probably didn’t want to jinx it, or for you to get your hopes up. You are rather invested in his love life,” Nick says. “I mean, you tried to set _me_ up with him.”

“Forgive me for thinking your constant pigtail pulling was a cover for a giant crush, Nicholas,” Harry huffs, having never heard the end of it from Nick and Louis after he set them up on one disastrous dinner date years ago now. 

“As lovely as your best mate’s arse may be, there’s no way. The ego in that relationship, could you imagine? Can’t have that level of drama in one pair, mate, it’s not healthy.” 

Harry snorts, shaking his head at Nick as their waiter brings their food out. He thanks the waiter with a quick smile, digging into his food, and they eat in silence for a while before Nick clears his throat. 

“How's your boy toy, then?”

“Liam's not a boy toy,” Harry says, a bit offended. 

“Right, right,” Nick says, waving a hand. “He's good, though?”

“Yeah, he's graduating next semester. Doing a work placement at Capital and all.”

Nick gasps, falling back in his chair and placing a hand over his heart. “You’re telling me your boyfriend is working for _Capital_?” he whispers the word like it pains him to even say it. “How could you?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Harry says automatically. “And I already told him I could talk to you, maybe see about getting an interview or a contact or something, but he doesn’t want it. Says it makes him feel like charity or something.”

“H, you don’t treat him like charity,” Nick says reassuringly, easily reading between the lines of what Harry’s saying. “I don’t really understand your relationship, but you don’t do that. Not with anyone. You’re making me pay for lunch, you freeloader.” Harry laughs, Nick always good for getting him out of his moods and getting him to laugh. Harry continues eating, reaching over and snatching a bite of Nick’s salad before he can swat him away. 

“How’s the gang?” he asks, and Nick gives him a bit of a look for changing the subject, but lets it drop. 

“Alright. You want to come for dinner this weekend?”

“Can’t. Going to Holmes with Liam,” Harry says. “What?” he continues at the look on Nick’s face, hand flying to his own face to see if he’s spilled something. 

“I’m just saying, for someone who is definitely not your boyfriend, you certainly act like Liam’s your boyfriend.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I’ve told you, we don’t want to mess up our relationship trying to do long distance or whatever. It works.” He’s getting a bit tired of everyone in his life acting like they can make his decisions better than he can. 

“Alright,” Nick concedes. “You want dessert?”

Yes, Harry decides, he really does. 

*

When Harry gets back to the flat after dropping Nick off at his, Louis’s sat on the couch, half watching a rerun of Eastenders and half reading a thick textbook propped on the arm of the couch next to him. Harry flops down on the couch next to him, automatically lying on his side and dropping his head into Louis’ lap. Louis sinks a hand into Harry’s hair, other hand highlighting something in the textbook. He moves his hand through Harry’s curls, scratching lightly at his scalp, and Harry purrs like a cat, closing his eyes. 

“What’s up, Hazza?” he asks.

“Nothing much,” Harry murmurs, lulled half to sleep by the gentle motion of Louis’ hand in his hair. “You?”

“Just got a paper due next week. It’s--” he cuts himself off when his phone vibrates next to him, dropping his highlighter and picking it up. He snorts when he picks it up, putting it back down almost immediately. “Your fans are mental, mate.”

Harry makes a curious noise, rolling his head in Louis’ lap so he’s facing him. 

“That photo I put up last night?” Louis says. “It’s been blowing up my phone with notifications ever since. All your fans want to know if you’re getting enough food and water, like you’re on a desert island or sommat.”

Harry snorts. “They’re worse than my mum.”

Louis hums, and the two of them lay in silence for a bit, occasionally broken by a jingle from an advert on the TV or the sound of Louis’ highlighter squeaking across a page. Harry’s halfway to a nap when Louis stops running his hand through Harry’s curls, and he makes a disgruntled noise and looks up at him. “Why’d you stop?”

“I wanted to ask you something,” Louis starts, but he doesn’t continue, fingers tapping against his book nervously and eyes bouncing around the room. Harry reaches up and stills his hand, squeezing it gently. 

“What is it, Lou?”

“What do you think of Niall?”

Harry laughs a bit. “Is that all? He’s great, Lou, really. I like him a lot. You’re serious about him, huh?”

Louis nods, but he relaxes a bit. “Yeah, it’s like--it’s going really well. I think, I think Mum would’ve liked him.”

Harry squeezes his hand again, a bit firmer this time. “Yeah, she definitely would’ve, Lou. And you’ll need to take him up to meet my mum and Karen, you know.” 

Louis groans, slumping back into the couch and his hand starting to move through Harry’s hair once again. “No way, I’ll keep him to myself for a bit longer before throwing him completely to the wolves. You and Liam knowing is bad enough, gossiping hens you are.” Harry laughs. 

“Seriously, though, my mum’s going to want to meet him eventually, scope him out,” Harry says, grinning at the groan Louis lets out. “You’ve got a lot of people who love you, Louis, and who want to see you happy.”

“So do you, you know,” Louis says, looking down at Harry. “Not just, like, me and Li and your family, either. You’ve got your whole team and all your fans and even Grimmy and his lot--”

“Oh, he’ll be happy to know you’re thinking of him,” Harry cuts in.

“Fuck off, mate,” Louis says over Harry’s laughter, eventually getting tired of it and just shoving him off the couch. Harry’s still pouting up at him when Liam walks in, dropping his backpack down and kicking off his shoes before he falls on the couch as well, feet resting on Harry’s thighs. 

“Liam,” Harry whines. “Louis’s being mean to me.” Liam looks down at him, digging his feet into Harry’s thigh a bit. 

“Oh? Well, I’m sure you deserved it,” Liam replies, grabbing the remote off the coffee table and flicking through the channels. Harry whines louder when Louis begins to laugh, rolling over so he’s on his stomach and groaning into the rug. They stay in those positions until Niall comes over later, Indian takeaway in tow, and shoots Harry enough weird looks that he forces himself off the ground. 

*

Harry spends the day before he and Liam head to Holmes Chapel bumming around Liam and Louis’ flat, waiting for Liam to get back from class. Liam just rolls his eyes when he walks in to find Harry on the couch in his pants watching a rerun of Great British Bake-Off with rabid attention. 

On Friday morning, Harry packs a small bag full of essentials for the weekend--and he knows if he forgets something his mum still has plenty of his old things packed away somewhere--and idles his car outside the Capital studios while he waits for Liam to finish up. He's just sending a snapchat to Nick about being behind enemy lines when Liam opens the passenger side and climbs in. 

“All right?” he says, tossing his rucksack in the back seat and pulling on his seat belt. Harry drops his phone in the cupholder and starts for the motorway, wanting to beat the traffic. 

“Yeah, good,” Harry says. “You? How was the placement?”

“Mate, it was wicked,” Liam says, and then he launches into a detailed report of everything they showed him. Harry smiles, Liam's excitement always contagious, and listens closely to Liam's speech, asking questions at the right time and enthusing with him at others. They're mostly out of the city by the time Liam finishes, the packed streets thinning out to more residential areas. 

“You know, that's all great, Liam, but it would be way cooler if you worked for Radio 1,” Harry says when Liam wraps up, and it's a sign of Liam's good mood that he simply laughs and slaps Harry on the arm. 

“Honestly, they should hire you for recruitment,” Liam shoots back, and Harry just grins. 

“How do you know they haven't already? Pop star life’s not forever, you know, I've gotta keep my options open.”

“Hm,” Liam hums. “I reckon it's pretty permanent for you, Haz.” He starts fiddling with the radio after that, switching the channels until he finds one without static and then laughing out loud when the DJ announces the next song to be one of Harry's own. “See? Doing pretty well for yourself.”

Harry reaches over to shut off the radio. “No one wants to hear this, Liam,” he says, but Liam's batting his hand away, saying that _he_ wants to hear it, especially since it's one of his favorites. 

“ _But I feel I'm getting used to being held by you_ ,” Liam sings out quietly, and Harry stops trying to change the station. He's always loved Liam's singing voice, thinks that if he had ever gone on X Factor like Harry he would've won it all, not just come in third. Liam always laughs when Harry tells him this, says he’ll leave the spotlight to Harry, content to do just do a bit of radio production and stay behind the scenes. But now, listening to Liam sing along to Harry’s song, Harry wonders at a world where their roles are reversed, where Liam is the celebrity and Harry’s just a normal bloke attending uni. It surprises him how easily he can picture it. 

“ _Baby look what you’ve done to me!_ ” Liam sings in the passenger seat, getting into the performance now, bobbing his head and drumming against the dashboard. Harry laughs at him. “Your turn!” Liam says, turning to Harry and holding out a pretend microphone.

“No,” Harry replies. “I’m not going to sing along to my own song.” It feels twattish, even if he sings that song every night on tour. Even listening to the song feels like some sort of weird ego move, though Liam being there negates some of that.

“Please, Hazza? I haven’t heard you sing in _ages_ ,” Liam begs, pulling out the pout that Harry can’t resist. Harry sighs before he picks up the second half of the chorus, Liam letting out a loud laugh before joining in and harmonizing. They spend the rest of the drive to Holmes Chapel belting out songs on the radio, switching to Liam’s phone when they run out of radio signal. 

Harry thinks sitting next to Liam and practically screaming out the words to the Little Mix song coming out of his car speakers feels as good as going out on stage and playing to a stadium full of people singing his songs.

*

They reach Holmes Chapel in the mid-afternoon, having made a stop halfway along the route for a quick lunch at a roadside restaurant. Harry drives slowly through the streets of the village, looking out at the houses and shops that bookend the memories of his childhood. Liam’s quiet in the seat next to him, looking out over their hometown much the same way Harry is. Harry finally pulls up in front of his house, turning the car off and hopping out. Liam follows, and they both grab their bags from the backseat before heading up to the front door. Harry grabs Liam’s hand and gives it a light squeeze just before they walk in the door. 

“Hello?” Harry calls out as they step over the threshold. “Anyone home?”

“Harry!” comes a voice from the kitchen, and Harry’s mum steps out into the hall just after. “And Liam! Karen, come here, the boys are here!” She steps forward and wraps Harry in a big hug, kissing his cheek, before she moves on and gives Liam the same treatment. Karen comes into the hall just as they’re pulling apart, and it’s another round of hugs, though these are a bit more teary since Karen hasn’t stopped crying since Liam left for uni, essentially. 

“Mum,” Liam laughs as she pulls out of their hug, hands flying up to wipe away her tears. “I saw you a month ago at my birthday.”

“Oh, but Harry wasn’t there, and I just love seeing the two of you together,” Karen says, clasping her hands together under her chin with a sigh. Harry chuckles, draping one arm over Liam’s shoulder and walking with him further into the house. 

“Lovely to see you as always, Karen,” he says, dropping a kiss on her cheek, which only serves to make more tears well up in her eyes. Anne shoos them away, taking Karen by the arm and leading her to the kitchen, telling the boys to stop making it worse. Liam and Harry giggle their way into the living room, where they find Geoff and Robin sat on the couch, watching footie. 

There’s another round of hugs before they all sit down again, and Harry settles into the arm of the couch, arm around Liam as he snuggles into his side. He sits back for a while as Liam catches up with his dad and Robin, and when the conversation lulls as the match starts up again on the screen Harry leans his head against the back of the couch. The comfort of being at home with all its familiar sounds and smells, as well as Liam’s warmth pressed along his side, eases him off to sleep. 

*

Harry wakes to his mum calling his name, shaking his shoulder softly. When he opens his eyes he sees that the sun has fallen further in the sky, and he’s now alone in the room, stretched out on the couch. 

“Dinner’s ready, sweetie. We didn’t want to wake you earlier, you looked so peaceful. You did drool a bit on Liam, though, love.”

Harry groans. “Oh, god. You should’ve woken me. Haven’t seen you in months, I shouldn’t just be passed out on the sofa.”

“Oh, it’s alright, honey,” Anne says as Harry lifts himself off the couch. “You know I just like knowing you’re home. And Liam’s been telling us all about uni and his work placement, Karen and Geoff are so proud of him.”

“Yeah, me too, mum,” Harry says as they walk into the dining room, where there’s a truly massive spread of food. “Is this for us, or have you got the army coming by later?”

Anne hits his arm, laughing, while Karen goes a bit pink at the table. “Well, we don’t know what you eat when you’re away on tour, and I know Louis and Liam barely make any use of the kitchen in that flat, so we wanted to treat you,” she says, and Harry sits down at the table next to Liam, elbowing him and shooting him a quick grin.

“She’s been cooking all week, lad,” Geoff says from Harry’s other side, and Harry hides a snort in his shoulder. 

“It looks amazing, really,” Harry says, reaching for the plate of mash in front of him. 

The adults--Harry will always think of them that way, even if he is technically an adult now--keep up a steady stream of conversation throughout dinner, while Liam and Harry mostly eat until they're stuffed full and then eat a bit more. At one point, Liam drops his hand down to Harry's thigh when he reaches over him to grab the pitcher of water, and he leaves it there. Harry let's his own hand fall to rest on top of Liam's, and while no one says anything about how they eat the rest of their food one-handed, Harry catches a few knowing looks from his mum, and Karen looks a bit misty when she looks at them. Harry elbows Liam when he notices, and Liam smirks at him, squeezing his hand under the table. 

When they finish, Harry jumps up, offering to do the dishes, and he glares at Liam until he reluctantly stands as well and starts clearing the table. 

“No, no, you go put your feet up,” Harry says over his mum’s protests. “We’ve got this handled, go put on the telly.” He grabs the last of the plates in a pile that’s precarious at best and heads into the kitchen, where Liam’s already got the sink running. He drops the plates next to the sink and then grabs Liam’s hand, pushing him up against the counter.

“Harry, wh--” Liam starts, but he’s cut off by Harry’s lips on his. He kisses back for a second before he pulls away, shaking his head when Harry tries to follow his mouth. “Harry, we can’t, our parents are in the next room.”

“Like they care,” Harry says, leaning in again and pressing his lips along Liam’s jaw. “Your mum’s been planning our wedding since we were eight.”

“Only because you proposed on the playground,” Liam replies, but his tone is softer, and he brings his hands up to rest lightly on Harry’s hips.

“If I remember correctly, Liam, it was you who proposed to me,” Harry scoffs, pulling back and giving Liam an offended look. Liam just shakes his head, using his grip on Harry’s hips to pull him closer until he’s standing in the V of Liam’s legs.

“Shut up,” he murmurs just before he leans in for another kiss, and Harry’s protests are forgotten. He doesn’t know how long they stand there, kissing as the dishwater grows tepid, but they’re interrupted by a throat clearing in the doorway. They jump apart immediately, and Harry turns to find Robin standing there, looking at the two of them with a small smile on his face. 

“Best get started on those before your mum comes looking for you,” he says, nodding towards the dishes still stacked in a small mountain next to the sink. He walks past them, whistling a bit, and grabs a beer from the fridge before walking back out of the room, but not before ruffling Harry’s hair and shooting them both a wink.

Liam and Harry breathe twin sighs of relief when he leaves, turning to each other and laughing before they finally get started on the dishes. 

“I feel like I’m fifteen years old again,” Liam says, rolling his sleeves up and grabbing a sponge.

“Oh, but you’re missing your flat-ironed hair, Liam,” Harry teases, bumping Liam’s hip with his own as he picks up a dishtowel. “That was so cute.”

“Fuck off,” Liam laughs, cheeks tinged pink.

“It was! I still went for you, at least, even if it used to take you hours to get ready and you had to steal Ruth’s hair products.”

“And what does that say about your taste, Styles?” Liam says, flicking Harry with a bit of sudsy water. 

Harry scoffs, flicking him back. “Absolutely nothing. I was young and naive and can’t be held responsible for my actions.”

“What about the actions you were doing about ten minutes ago?”

“I don’t recall. Maybe you should remind me,” Harry says, leaning in and stealing a quick kiss. 

“Boys! Are you almost done? We’re going to put in a film,” Anne’s voice calls from the living room, and Harry pulls back with another groan. 

“Remind me why we came here again,” he says, dropping his forehead to Liam’s shoulder. 

“Because they’re our family and we love them and they haven’t seen you in months,” Liam says, altogether too sensibly in Harry’s opinion. 

“Ugh,” he says, but he straightens after pressing a light kiss to Liam’s shoulder through his shirt. They finish the dishes quickly after that, though Harry does steal one last kiss before they head into the other room. 

*

Liam’s parents leave later that night, going back to the house two streets down that Harry spent as much of his childhood in as he did his own, but Liam stays behind, and Anne and Robin level vaguely threatening glances at them before they head up to Harry’s bedroom. Harry ignores them, since he’s an adult and he knows they don’t really care anyway, and pulls Liam behind him into his room. 

He hasn’t really lived in this house since he was 17, so stepping into his old bedroom is like stepping into a time capsule. He’s still got old band posters lining the wall, Oasis and the Rolling Stones and even Snow Patrol, which is probably a bit embarrassing looking back on it. There are pictures of him and Louis and Liam from early childhood up to their teens tacked onto the wall over Harry’s bed, and Liam looks over them, laughing quietly at one of the three of them curled on the floor of Louis’ sitting room, fast asleep in a pile and lit only by the faint glow of the TV, still on from whatever movie or gaming marathon had happened the night before. Harry smiles at it, coming up behind Liam and wrapping his arms around his waist. 

“It’s good, being home,” he says quietly, dropping his chin to Liam’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Liam agrees, turning around in Harry’s arms and placing his hands on Harry’s chest. “Like, obviously I’ve been home but I haven’t been here,” he gestures with one hand, “for a while.”

“Got lots of memories in this room, eh, Liam?” Harry says with a ridiculous eyebrow waggle. Liam pushes him away. 

“You ruined it,” he says flatly, and he heads towards his bag to start pulling out his pajamas. 

“Hey, no, heyyy,” Harry says, reaching for Liam’s hand and pulling him back with a pout. “I mean it, there are good memories here. This is where we kissed for the first time.”

“No it’s not,” Liam says, laughing a little. “We kissed for the first time when we were nine and you were dared by Laura Nelson to kiss me in front of everyone and then you ran away crying after.”

Harry flushes. “Well, the first time it counted then. That was here.”

“I don’t know, that three second kiss in front of everyone in our school meant a lot to me,” Liam says, and Harry lets out a little whine.

“Liam, I’m trying to have a moment here, and you’re ruining it!” he manages not to stomp his foot, but it’s a close thing. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, please continue,” Liam says, biting his lip to hide a smile. 

“Thank you,” Harry replies, and he takes a deep breath. “I was trying to tell you that this is where we shared our first kiss, and maybe we should remember that specially. With more kissing. And possibly other activities. If that wasn’t clear.”

Liam snorts, falling forward until his forehead knocks against Harry’s shoulder, laughing into his neck. Harry huffs. 

“Liam,” he says. He refuses to say he’s pouting, but, well, this situation hasn’t exactly gone to plan.

“Sorry, sorry,” Liam says, pulling back and trying to school his face into a straight expression. “It’s just, I thought about all those people who say you’re a sex symbol.”

Harry’s definitely pouting now, dropping his arms from Liam’s waist to cross over his own chest. “Heyyy,” he says slowly, a bit put out. 

“Aw, come on, Hazza,” Liam says, putting his hand under Harry’s chin and lifting it until Harry makes eye contact. “I’m sorry. What was this about kissing and other activities?”

Harry just shrugs, not fully out of his mope. Liam laughs at him and tugs him closer so they’re in a hug, though Harry’s arms still rest by his side. 

“Come on, babe,” Liam laughs, leaning in so their foreheads are touching. “Kiss me.”

Harry would like to hold off longer, to prove a point about how Liam can’t always get what he wants from Harry, or something, but Harry’s never been very good at self-control and Liam’s always had an irresistible mouth, so instead Harry just leans in and kisses Liam. The kiss is slow, and sweet, like Liam’s apologizing a bit for making fun of Harry. Harry presses in a bit harder, bringing his hands to Liam’s waist and turning the two of them around so Liam’s back is to the bed. He pulls back a bit and pushes on Liam’s shoulders until he sits down on the bed, and Harry gets on his knees in front of him. 

“Harry--” Liam starts, but Harry shushes him, moving to unbutton Liam’s shirt. 

“Nothing we haven’t done in here before, Liam,” Harry says, before he leans in and follows the movements of his hands with his mouth, pressing kisses down Liam’s chest. He presses one kiss directly over Liam’s belly button, which makes Liam laugh and push his head away. 

“What are you doing?” he says, still giggling a bit as he takes his shirt off completely. 

“You have a cute belly button,” Harry says with a shrug, reaching his hands for the button on Liam’s trousers.

“Um, okay?” Liam says, a confused look on his face that Harry has to lean forward and kiss off. 

“Everything about you is cute, Liam,” Harry says when he pulls away. He gets Liam’s zipper down at the same time, and Liam lifts his hips to help him pull them down. “Cute and very sexy.”

Liam snorts, but whatever he was going to say is cut off by a groan as Harry reaches into his boxers and grips his cock. Harry keeps stroking as he presses his lips against Liam’s chest, Liam falling back on his elbows and spreading his legs further. Harry pulls Liam’s pants down his thighs, leaving Liam to get them the rest of the way off as he leans in and starts to kiss the insides of Liam’s thighs, sucking a bruise on one that causes Liam to let out a high-pitched whine. 

“Careful, Liam,” Harry shushes, pulling away. “Don’t want to bother my parents.” He barely gets the words out before he leans down and takes Liam into his mouth. Liam throws an arm over his face, biting into the skin to muffle his moan. Harry would smirk, but his mouth is a bit occupied, so instead he redoubles his efforts, taking Liam as deep as he can and wrapping his hand around the part he can’t quite reach. He would try deepthroating, but it’s been awhile and he isn’t keen on his mum asking him if he’s developed a cough the next day, so instead he focuses his attention on the head of Liam’s dick, tongue tracing along the vein on the underside before twisting it over the head. He pulls back for a second and looks up, but Liam’s still got his arm over his face, so Harry can’t see his eyes. 

“Hey,” Harry says, and Liam pulls his arm away. Harry jerks his hand over the head of Liam’s cock, pulling the foreskin back, and Liam bites his lip. “Watch.” Harry instructs, and then he wraps his tongue around the head again as his free hand reaches out and starts playing with Liam’s balls. Liam bites his lip harder, so much so that the skin turns white, but he doesn’t look away, and Harry keeps eye contact as he sinks lower over Liam’s dick and one finger reaches out from Liam’s balls to brush over his hole. 

Liam jerks, bringing a hand into Harry’s hair, but he doesn’t press down, just tangles his fingers there and holds him. “Haz, I’m gonna,” he says, breaking off with a cut-off moan when Harry squeezes his hand around the base of his dick, tongue flicking over the head again and licking a bit of precome out of his slit. He pushes the tip of the finger he had circling Liam’s hole just inside, and with that Liam comes, one hand gripped in Harry’s hair and the other over his mouth, muffling his groans. He falls back against the bed, catching his breath, and Harry stands quickly, removing his clothes before climbing on top of Liam. He gets one hand on his dick, jerking roughly, and the other goes to Liam’s neck, pulling him in for a rough kiss. Liam’s mostly useless at this point, loose from his orgasm, but Harry doesn’t really need much and when Liam bites at his bottom lip and tugs, Harry spills messily over his hand and Liam’s stomach. 

The two of them lay together for a while, catching their breath and sharing lazy kisses, before Harry eventually stands and runs to the bathroom to get a flannel to clean up with, and both boys just manage to slip into pajamas before crashing out on Harry’s bed.

*

The next morning, Harry wakes to the sound of voices coming from downstairs. Liam’s arm is around his waist, breath soft in his ear, and for a second Harry’s transported back in time. It feels like he’s in school again, like Liam had snuck over the night before and they had stayed up late whispering and sharing kisses, and soon Harry’s going to have to wake him up and make sure he gets home before their parents notice. Then Liam shifts a bit in his sleep, sighing, and the moment is broken and Harry isn’t fifteen anymore, he’s 22 and a world away from rushing to get to school on time, though the bed he’s in and the boy he’s with are the same. 

He rolls over, and Liam still looks dead to the world, so he slips out of bed and grabs a t-shirt to pull over his head before he pads down the stairs sleepily. He’s rubbing sleep out of his eyes, yawning, when he walks into the kitchen and is greeted with a voice he wasn’t expecting.

“Oh, well look what the cat dragged in,” Gemma says, and Harry drops his arms and gapes at her for a second before rushing in and wrapping her up in a big hug.

“Gemma! What are you doing here?”

“Last I checked this was my house too, little brother. And since it was unlikely you were going to make the trip to Manchester to come see me with your big popstar life I decided to come home and say hi before you go jetting off again,” Gemma replies, messing up his hair when he pulls back. He pouts at her, fixing it, and then accepts the mug of tea his mum passes his way. 

“Is Liam still asleep?” she asks, stirring milk into her own mug.

“Liam’s here?” Gemma asks, peering towards the doorway like he’ll appear just by her mentioning.

“Yes, and yes,” Harry says, and he shoots Gemma a look. “Be nice.”

“I’m always nice!” Gemma protests. “He’s like another little brother, you know.”

“Exactly,” Harry retorts. “That’s why I’m telling you to be nice.”

Gemma pulls a face at him, and he pulls one right back. “Kids,” Anne says mildly. “You’ll both be nice and lovely, exactly the way I raised you to be, right?” She takes a calm sip of her tea. Harry and Gemma share a look. 

“Yes, mum,” they say at the same time, and Harry sticks his tongue out at Gemma when Anne’s back is turned before he rushes back up the stairs to wake Liam. 

*

Harry and Liam spend the day traipsing through the fields of Holmes Chapel, reminiscing on their youth and the times spent together there. They pop into the Tomlinson house next door for a bit, facetiming Louis to say hello and making the mistake of letting Ernest hold Harry’s phone in his hand. Harry spends the next ten minutes chasing him through the house to get it back as he runs off, Louis on the other end of the call laughing loudly and cheering Ernie on. When they make it back to Harry’s house it’s just in time for dinner, the table packed again as Karen and Geoff and Gemma join them, and afterwards the families retire to the living room for a sure-to-be ruthless Scrabble tournament. Harry’s in the kitchen grabbing drinks when Gemma corners him. 

“What’s going on with you and Liam?” her voice comes from behind him and he jumps, startled. 

“Jesus, you scared me,” he says, turning around. “And what do you mean, what’s going on with me and Liam? We’re the same as always.”

“Yeah, exactly. But your ‘same as always’ isn’t exactly healthy, is it, Haz?” she asks, and Harry narrows his eyes. 

“I don’t really think our relationship is any of your business,” he says, a bit shortly, and Gemma’s face softens. 

“I just don’t want you to get hurt, or Liam. How much longer are you going to lead him on?”

“Lead him on? What are you talking about? Gemma, we’re adults. Liam is free to do whatever he likes.”

Gemma sighs. “I don’t mean it like that, I just mean--it doesn’t make _sense_ , Harry. You’re both crazy about each other but you have this stupid arrangement set up, and for what? I don’t want it to blow up in your face.”

“It’s fine, Gemma. I’m fine. We’re happy, yeah? I guess it’s a bit unorthodox, but it works,” Harry says, and thankfully Gemma drops the subject. They walk back into the other room and Harry makes a beeline for Liam, curling up next to him and wrapping his arms around him. Gemma gives him a look but doesn’t say anything. 

“Everything alright?” Liam asks quietly, while everyone else is distracted playing the game. 

“Yeah,” Harry says, and he drops his face into Liam’s neck. “All good.” Liam seems to accept that answer, or at least doesn’t say anything if he notices something’s wrong, but he does bring a hand up and rubs lightly along Harry’s arm, and they stay like that for the rest of the night. 

*

They spend Sunday morning sleeping in, getting up in time to make a quick run to the bakery Harry used to work at and grabbing breakfast before they say their goodbyes to their families and making the trek back down to London. When they get back to Liam and Louis’ flat, Liam starts in on all the coursework he abandoned for their weekend trip, and Harry is also very productive as he takes a nap in Liam’s bed. He does cook dinner, though, which saves them a trip to the Indian place down the road for the third time that week. Niall comes over, and the four of them crowd around Louis and Liam’s narrow coffee table and eat, making their way through more beers than is probably wise for a Sunday night and stay up late talking about everything and nothing. Sometime between finishing the last of the dinner Harry made and Niall pulling out his guitar for a bit of a sing-along, Harry feels settled in a way he hasn’t for a long while, like sitting on this ratty old couch with these boys is exactly where he needs to be. He falls asleep that night with a smile on his face. 

The rest of Harry’s week home passes in a blur of seeing friends, sleeping, and Liam. Harry hangs out with Nick or Louis or some of his other London pals while Liam’s off at class or getting work done, but they go to bed together every night and Harry wakes up next to Liam every morning and even though Harry loves touring more than anything else, as the day approaches for him to leave London and head to Australia for the next leg of the tour he feels more dread and less excitement. He doesn’t want to leave London and the bubble he’s been living in with Liam, where he can be fully himself and not care about the outside world or what people think of him. It’s nice, and when it comes to the eve of Harry’s flight down under, Harry feels more melancholic than anything else. 

Liam works to get him out of it, taking him out to dinner with all their mates and then taking him home and fucking him nice and slow and if Harry were the type of person that uses the term “making love” that’s probably how he’d describe it. They lay together afterwards, just breathing and soaking in each other’s presence before Harry physically can’t keep his eyes open anymore and Liam quietly shuts out the light with a soft “good night, Haz.”

They don’t take Harry to the airport, even though Louis has a mulish look on his face like he’s a second away from cancelling Harry’s car and driving him himself. It’s too complicated, though, with paps and fans and security, so instead they say their goodbyes in Liam and Louis’ small hallway, Harry hugging first Niall, then Louis (who, as always, tells Harry not to do anything he wouldn’t do and, as always, Harry replies that that doesn’t mean much), and finally Liam. He hugs Liam for a long time, trying to memorize the feel of him in his arms, the way he smells and the warmth of his breath against Harry’s neck. They don’t say anything, but they don’t really need to, and Harry holds on until his phone buzzes in his pocket telling him his car is there. 

*

By the time Harry gets off the plane in Sydney, whatever leftover sadness he was feeling at leaving London was replaced with anticipation and excitement for the tour ahead. A week and a half off had given him just enough reset time to be practically bouncing once he gets to the hotel, feeling the jetlag a bit but mostly feeling the energy that being on the road always gives him. He can tell he’s annoying the team around him, though, his security guard rolling his eyes more than once, so he goes off to find Mark and burn off some of his excess energy in the gym. He gets kitted out in his gym gear, shorts and an old t-shirt and a headband in his hair even though his curls are shorter now, and snaps a quick selfie that he sends off to Liam before heading out to the gym. 

When he gets back, sweaty and exhausted and starting to feel the jetlag he had avoided earlier, there are two texts from Liam on his phone. 

_**looooking good hazza hahaha** _

**_miss u already babe x_ **

Harry smiles to himself, putting his phone down and heading for a shower. The hot water relaxes him, and when he gets out his head barely touches the pillow before he falls asleep. 

*

Harry doesn’t realize that he had forgotten to respond to Liam’s texts until late the next morning, and at that point he reckons it’s too late to respond, so he simply pockets his phone and makes a mental note to try to schedule a phone call or Skype session when they’re both free. He’s in promo all day, talking about the tour and getting started on the next album--everyone’s already clamoring for new music and he’s only put out the last album less than a year ago--and for the most part it’s pretty standard. There is one reporter, though, who gets a little personal. 

It starts like any other, the woman walking in and shaking his hand, making small talk until the cameras turn on. She asks a few basic questions before she gets a sharp look in her eye, and all of a sudden Harry feels like he’s not going to like what’s coming up. 

“Now, I have to ask,” she starts, and Harry resists rolling his eyes. _Oh, do you,_ he thinks, but he keeps his face open, nodding to encourage her to keep talking. “We’ve seen some photos, they’ve been all over the internet, and we were wondering if you could explain this? Maybe showing a special someone around your hometown?” she asks, and then she pulls out, of all things, a printed out photo of him and Liam, laughing together in the bakery in Holmes Chapel. 

Harry laughs, reaching out and taking the paper from her, laughing again a bit softer as his eyes scan the paper. “No, this is--” he looks up and shoots the interviewer his most devastating smile, pleased when it looks like she goes a bit breathless. “This is one of my best mates from home. He grew up there too, so we were just visiting our families together.”

“Oh,” the reporter says, and she looks a bit put out, like she’s upset she wasn’t able to catch Harry out in a secret relationship. Harry shrugs at her. “Well, then,” and she moves on to some question about being far from home and then they wrap the interview up. Harry keeps a hold of the picture of him and Liam, and tells the woman with a smile that he’d like to keep it, if she doesn’t mind. She doesn’t, and she stumbles her way through a goodbye before she leaves and Harry’s given a bit of a break between interviews. He grabs his phone out of his pocket and sends Liam a quick text while the crew fix something with the lighting. 

_**Got something hilarious to tell you about, mate**_ , it reads, but he doesn’t immediately get a response, and he realizes that it’s the middle of the night in London, so he puts his phone away again and makes another note to call when he gets a chance. 

*

He doesn’t get that chance until over a week later, the time difference and Harry’s hectic schedule at the beginning of a tour leg making it near impossible to find time for a Skype call, or even a standard phone call. It’s almost an accident when it finally happens, Harry logging into his Skype at just the same time that Liam does and hitting the call button before he can stop himself. He bites his lip right after, hoping Liam’s not in class or somewhere he can’t talk, but luckily Liam picks up, and Harry is faced with the image of Liam smiling at him distractedly from his room. 

“Hey,” Liam says, adjusting his screen a bit to get a better angle. “What’s up?” 

“Nothing much, Liam, just wanted to chat. Is this a bad time?” Harry says, and he’s mostly teasing, but Liam’s smile goes a bit apologetic when Harry asks. “Oh, shit, is it really? I can go.”

“No, you’re fine,” Liam assures him. “I’ve got a bit of time, but, uh, I’ve got a date tonight.”

Oh. Well. That’s fine then, Harry supposes. Obviously Liam can do as he likes, and it’s not like he’s cheating, or anything, so Harry just smiles benignly at him. “Oh yeah? Who with?”

“Um, this bloke called Kyle, he actually works for Capital, I met him on work experience. We’re going to get dinner and then go see his mate play an open mic at some pub.”

“Sounds fantastic,” Harry says, and he settles himself more comfortably against the pillows on his hotel bed. “Go on, then, do you need help choosing an outfit?” Liam nods, a relieved look on his face, so Harry stays on the call with him, giving advice on clothes and shoes and hair before Liam has to ring off to go meet his date. Almost immediately after they hang up, Harry’s phone starts ringing on the bed next to him, Louis’ contact photo lighting up the screen. 

“Hey, Lou,” Harry answers.

“Liam’s going on a date,” Louis says quickly, not even bothering with a greeting. 

“I know,” Harry says. “I was just on Skype with him picking his outfit.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Louis asks, tone skeptical. Harry rolls his eyes. 

“Of course I’m okay with it. I’m not dating him. If he wants to go on a date and see this guy for a bit or whatever, that’s fine. I’m not his keeper.”

“What if they’re still together when you come back?” Louis challenges. Harry hadn’t really thought of that. He’s on tour in Australia and Asia until the beginning of December, and it’s only October now. 

“You think they’re going to be that serious?” Harry asks. Liam hadn’t seemed particularly nervous on their call, and Harry had just assumed Liam was more looking for a shag than anything. But maybe Harry read it wrong and Liam had been crushing on this other guy for a while. It leaves a bit of a bad taste in his mouth. 

“I don’t know, I don’t know anything about this guy. Liam had never mentioned him till he came home today and said he couldn’t watch Celebrity Big Brother with me tonight because he has a date. And I’ve never really seen him in any relationship that wasn’t with you, Harry,” Louis says, sounding a bit exasperated with the both of them. 

“Well, let’s just see what happens, I guess. I’m not upset, or anything.”

“Really?” Louis asks skeptically. 

“Yes, really. I just want Liam to be happy. And we’re not dating, so if he wants to date other people then whatever,” Harry says, ignoring the gnawing feeling growing in his stomach. “Now who’s on CBB this series?”

Louis accepts the change of subject, and they chat for a bit longer before Harry realizes it’s getting way too late for him to be awake, even if he has a free day tomorrow. He rings off with Louis and goes through his nightly routine just fine, but as soon as the lights are off and he’s lying in bed, he’s plagued with the thoughts of Liam and this other bloke. He’s confused; he’s never had issue with their arrangement before, but then again he and Liam never really discuss it directly. He knows Liam’s never remained celibate when they’re apart--and he definitely knows that he himself hasn’t--but he’s never been confronted with it like this, aware that at this very moment Liam could be with someone else, kissing them and touching them and doing who knows what. 

He rolls over, hitting at his pillow until he’s satisfied with the shape. _Get over yourself_ , he thinks. _It’s just a bloody date_.

*

It’s not just a bloody date. 

While Harry slowly makes his way through the tour in Australia, followed by New Zealand before they move up to Japan and the rest of Asia, Liam slowly starts a relationship with Kyle, and Harry had never known how much you could dislike the simple _idea_ of a person until this moment. It’s been almost a month since their first date, and since then Harry has had to hear about three more dinner dates (including one where Kyle cooked at his flat), a trip to the movies, a big night out with Louis and Niall and a karaoke bar, and Liam actually considering taking Kyle back home to meet his parents. 

“Don’t you think that’s a bit soon?” Harry asks over the phone when Liam suggests that. He can’t help but think about the last time they had gone to Holmes Chapel, together, and joking in his mum’s kitchen about their future wedding. He pushes those thoughts aside, which he’s gotten rather good at in the past month. 

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Liam says, and Harry avoids audibly sighing in relief. “I really like him, though, Haz, I can’t wait for you to meet him.”

“Not very long now,” Harry says vaguely, since he’s got another few weeks of tour before this one finally wraps up and he’s given nearly a full four months off to complete the album. He’s not sure if he’s looking forward to the time at home or dreading it. 

“It’s gonna be great,” Liam says, oblivious to the inner turmoil Harry’s dealing with on the other end of the line. “Anyway, I gotta go, Kyle’s gonna come over and watch The Dark Knight trilogy--can you believe he’s never seen it?”

“Huh,” Harry hums noncommittally, because he can’t exactly shout _yes, you’ve told me five times, and why the hell would you date someone who hasn’t even seen your favorite film_ without drawing some concern. “Talk to you later then.”They hang up, and Harry puts his hands over his face, groaning. 

It's not as though he doesn't know he's being ridiculous. He and Liam had had their relationship set-up for five years, with this always being a possibility. And Harry had seen his fair few share of people in that time, some of them high-profile enough that he ended up on the front page of trashy tabloids and gossip sites. So really, he has no idea what's gotten into him, why all of a sudden the thought of Liam being with someone else feels like sticking ice in his veins. He needs to get over it, and fast, since Kyle really does seem like a perfectly nice guy and Liam seems to like him quite a bit. 

He groans again. He needs to get over himself and get whatever these feelings are out of his system. Liam can see who he likes and so can Harry. He rolls out of the bed, slipping into a pair of jeans and a shirt he only buttons two buttons on before heading out the door. “I’m going out tonight,” he says to the security guard standing in the hall. 

He goes out that night, and nearly every night following. He finds girls in every club--he can’t bring himself to look at guys, and he’s not questioning the reasoning behind that--and takes them back to the hotel, or maybe to the loos despite the looks he gets from his security team. It happens enough times, and with perhaps too little care, that Harry gets a phone call from Louis. 

“So, you wouldn’t believe the story on the front page of _The Sun_ this morning,” is how Harry’s greeted, and he groans, checking the time on the bedside table and seeing that it’s way too early for him to be woken up by this conversation. He’s in Malaysia now, and last night was a rare night where he passed out straight after his show, the last couple nights out a bars and clubs catching up to him. 

“What, Louis?” Harry says, voice coming out hoarse and scratchy. 

“Just a little story about you shagging every bird in Asia, and I thought, _well, that can’t be_ , and then I see they’ve got bloody photos! What are you doing, Harry? You know better than that,” Louis says, and Harry rolls his eyes. 

“You’re not my mum. I can do what I like.”

“Oh, fuck off, Harry. I know you, you’re never like this. Is this--does this have anything to do with Liam?” Louis asks, cautious.

“Why would it have anything to do with Liam?”

“Because he’s got a boyfriend and you’re jealous?”

“I’m not jealous,” Harry says. “Liam can be with who he wants and I can be with who I want.”

“Oh, are we still on this part, then? I thought we had skipped to the part where you realized you’re upset that Liam’s basically dumped you for someone else. Are we not there yet?”

“Louis,” Harry says, frustrated. “How in the hell would he dump me if we were never together in the first place?”

“Jesus Christ, Harry, tell me you’re not actually that dense,” Louis scoffs. 

“Apparently I fucking am,” Harry grits out. 

“Fine, well call me if you ever want to actually talk about this instead of just trying to fuck it out of your system, alright?” Louis says, and Harry barely gets out an “alright” in response before he’s hung up. 

Harry throws his phone off the side of the bed, punching his pillow a few times before collapsing onto it. He stops himself before he screams into it, not wanting to go into full-on teenager-in-a-strop mode. He tries to force himself back to sleep, but Louis’ words are running through his mind. Deep down, he knows Louis is right, but it only makes him feel worse, because it means he’s been going around like a fucking hypocrite shagging whoever he likes and as soon as Liam starts doing the same he loses his mind. 

“You’re a fucking wanker, Styles,” he says to himself. Surprisingly, that does make him feel better. 

*

Harry doesn’t talk to Louis or Liam for another two weeks, dodging calls and texts with excuses of promo or writing for the album or something, while really he mostly sits around his hotel room and mopes until it’s time for a show. Liam seems to buy the excuses, at least, and Louis--well, Louis hasn’t really been trying to contact Harry. Seems the ball is in Harry’s court on that one. 

It’s only after Sarah, his publicist, sits him down and very gently tells him that he needs to get ahold of himself, because he’s making all of their lives very difficult and if he doesn’t stop soon they might need to bring in outside help that Harry finally buckles down and admits to himself that he needs to stop. The drinking, the sleeping around, it's obviously not helping, since Harry still gets that same sick feeling in his stomach when he thinks of Liam with someone else. He sighs, and picks up the phone. 

“Hey, Lou,” he says, when it clicks through. 

“So, are you ready to talk about it?” Louis asks briskly. 

“Yeah, I reckon I am.”

“Okay, well first of all, you're in love with Liam.”

Harry snorts. “Contrary to popular belief, I'm not completely un-self aware. Of course I’m in love with Liam. I always have been.”

“Well then why the hell did you suggest this stupid arrangement?” Louis asks, incredulous. 

“I was eighteen years old, Louis! I was scared of losing my best mate. I thought if we had this thing going, it would hurt less.”

“What would hurt less?”

“Leaving. Being away all the time. Not being the kind of guy Liam deserves.”

“Harry,” Louis sighs. “That’s not--”

“Louis, you know Liam. He needs, like, people there for him. People to support him. He always wants to do everything on his own, never wants to ask for help, and if I’m not there to see when he _needs_ it how the hell am I supposed to love him the way he deserves?”

“Jesus Christ, you are one self-sacrificial bastard, you know that?” Louis says with a bit of a laugh. “What about _your_ happiness, Harry?”

“I--I was happy. Or at least I told myself I was. I had Liam, I had a bit of freedom, it was alright.”

“You’ve brought this on yourself, lad,” Louis says, but not meanly. “So what are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know,” Harry says honestly. “Obviously my current strategy isn’t working. He’s happy with this Kyle bloke, yeah?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Louis says. “So you’re not going to do anything?” Harry can practically hear his raised eyebrow down the line. 

“Well, what am I meant to do? He’s with someone else. I’ve just got to deal with it. I’ll be home in two weeks, so I’ve got two weeks to brace myself for seeing Liam with someone else.”

“Fuck, mate, you really are a bloody idiot.”

“Trust me, Louis,” Harry laughs, “I know.”

*

When Harry finishes the tour, the last week and a half a lot calmer than the rest of the time he spent on the road, he lands at the airport and goes directly to his own flat. He doesn’t much like spending time there, even though he had spent so long looking for a place and had this one modified exactly to his specifications. It’s nice there, and certainly beautiful, but it always feels slightly lifeless to Harry. He feels too lonely being there alone, and it’s worse when he’s just come off tour, when he feels the loss of his band and his security and all the tour crew that make up a little family on the road acutely. It’s why he usually spends his breaks in Liam’s bed or occasionally on Grimmy’s couch, but the first doesn’t seem like an option anymore and while Grimmy is always willing to take in a stray friend for a night or two, having a homeless popstar in his flat for a few months would push the limits of even his kindness. So, it looks like Harry’s stuck having to actually live in his own flat. 

He drops his bag in his bedroom, walking through the flat and checking everything’s still the same as he left it before he went on tour almost a full year ago now. He’d made sure the cleaners came in just before he got back, so at least nothing’s covered in dust, but it still feels a bit eerie to be walking here alone. He walks into the living room and stands there for a bit pondering watching a bit of telly before he rolls his eyes, knowing he’s just prolonging the inevitable. He grabs his keys off the table by the door and leaves, driving over to Louis and Liam’s flat. 

They had given him a spare key when they moved in, so he lets himself in, holding his breath when he unlocks their door and hoping he wasn’t about to catch Liam and Kyle going at it on the couch. When he walks in, though, he’s greeted with the sight of Louis and Niall lying on the sofa watching footie, Liam nowhere to be seen. 

“Hey,” he says quietly, stepping into the room.

“Harry!” Louis says, jumping up and grabbing him into a tight hug. “I didn’t know if you’d be by.”

“Why wouldn’t I come by?” Harry asks with a wry smile. He pulls away from Louis’ hug only to be grabbed into another one by Niall. 

“Reckon I could think of a couple reasons,” Niall says before he pulls back. “They aren’t here, though.” Harry refuses to admit that he sags in relief at that, but his shoulders do feel a bit looser. He sags onto the couch, Louis and Niall sitting on either side of him. 

“Where are they?” he asks, leaning his head against the back of the couch.

“They were going out for lunch, I think they should be back soon,” Louis says. “You want a beer?” 

Harry rolls his head to look at him. “Yeah, I think I definitely want a beer.” Niall gets up to go grab him one, patting him on the shoulder a couple times as he passes along the back of the couch. 

“Listen, Haz, before they get here,” Louis starts, but Harry interrupts. 

“It’s not going to affect anything,” he says, because if there’s one thing he’s told himself over the past couple of weeks is that he won’t lose Liam’s friendship over this. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Okay,” Louis says, but he sounds doubtful. “I just wanted--”

“Leave him be, Lou,” Niall says, coming into the room with a beer for Harry and two others for himself and Louis. “He doesn’t need your meddling.”

“Meddling? Me? Now, Neil, I have never heard of such a thing,” Louis says, sticking his nose up, and Harry snorts. Louis turns to him with an offended expression. “Excuse me?”

“If meddling was a sport, you be an Olympian, Tommo,” Harry says, and Louis gasps. 

“Traitors, the both of you!” he exclaims as Niall reaches out and gives Harry a fist bump.

“Oh, what have you done now?” Liam’s voice comes from the doorway, and Harry turns his neck so fast he nearly gives himself whiplash. Liam’s leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed over his chest and a smile playing around his mouth. Harry holds back the urge to plant his face into the couch and cry, because Liam looks _really_ good, unfairly good. His muscles are visible where the fabric of his plaid shirt stretches across his arms, and he’s left a few buttons undone at the top, leaving his neck on display and Harry just wants to _lick_ him, maybe bite until there’s a red bruise right over his birthmark. But he can’t do that, he definitely can’t do that, because standing right behind Liam is a tall, lanky blonde guy with a curious look on his face, and if Harry didn’t already know, the hand resting lightly on Liam’s waist would easily tell him that this is Kyle. 

“Hiya, Liam,” Harry says, trying to keep his tone light. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Liam rolls his eyes, pushing off the door and walking over to the couch where he pulls Harry up and into a tight hug. “It’s good to see you, Haz,” he says, while Harry tries to remember what to do with his hands. _Pull it together, Styles_ , he thinks, _it’s only a bloody hug_. He hugs Liam back, and when they pull apart he very nearly goes in for a kiss before he catches himself. No one notices his slip, though, because Kyle takes that moment to make himself known. 

“Uh, Liam?” he says. “Since when do you know Harry Styles?”

“What is with you two and not telling anyone you know me, huh?” Harry says, grateful for an opportunity to make a joke and not focus on the fact that this is probably the first time since he was 15 years old he’s not greeting Liam with a kiss.

“It’s because we’re desperately ashamed of you,” Louis says from Harry’s other side, and Harry rolls his eyes, walking over to Kyle and reaching out a hand. 

“Hi, I’m Harry, I’ve known these two idiots since we were kids,” he says.

“Uh, I’m Kyle, Liam’s--uh, Liam and I are dating,” he says, clearing his throat after, and Harry shoots him a tight smile, dropping his hand. 

“Don’t try to threaten him, Haz,” Niall says, wrapping an arm around Harry’s shoulder. “He’s pathetic at it.” he says to Kyle, but he squeezes Harry’s shoulder at the same time, and Harry takes it as the lifeline it is. 

They all sit back down, Harry in between Niall and Louis on the couch and Liam and Kyle squeezing into the old armchair. Harry certainly doesn’t think about how many times he and Liam have sat the same way in that very chair. Niall, Louis, and Liam drive the conversation a bit, as Harry’s trying too hard not to focus on the squeezing feeling in his chest to contribute much, and Kyle seems to be taking in the whole scene with wide eyes. Eventually, Liam elbows him a bit. 

“Kyle, come on, stop gaping, it’s just Harry,” he says, and it seems to do the trick in jump-starting Kyle. He joins in the conversation more after that, and Harry slowly starts to put together pieces of information about him, like that he comes from Brighton originally, and because of that he grew up rowing, and that he’s always had a real passion for music but none of the talent so he went into radio. He smiles a lot, and makes jokes that make Liam laugh, and is almost always touching Liam in some way. In short, he’s bloody perfect for Liam and as the night goes on Harry sinks further into himself. He doesn’t want to look at the happy couple but at the same time he can’t find the strength to look away. He speaks when he’s spoken to, and manages to laugh a few times at something Niall or Louis says, but mostly he sits on the couch and hopes his heartbreak isn’t too obvious on his face.

After they finish the takeaway they had ordered, Harry stands up. “I better head out,” he says, and Liam looks up from where he was whispering with Kyle, confused. 

“Where are you going?”

“Home, Liam,” Harry laughs. “It’s getting late and I still haven’t recovered from the jetlag.”

“Oh,” Liam says, and he glances around a bit. “Yeah, right, of course. See you tomorrow, then?”

“Sure,” Harry says, and he turns to leave, but Niall’s voice stops him. 

“Hey, you think you could give me a lift round to mine?”

“Yeah,” Harry says as he shoots a curious look in Louis’ direction. “You sure you don’t want to stay here?”

“Nah, I’ve got an early shift tomorrow and Lou hates being woken up by my alarm,” Niall says, and he leans down and plants a swift kiss on Louis’ mouth before he walks up to Harry, slapping him on the shoulder and then heading out the door. “Let’s go, Styles!”

Harry snorts, and leaves the rest of them with a little wave. He and Niall bundle up into their coats before walking to the car in silence. Harry programs Niall’s address into the car’s GPS and starts following the voice’s instructions, but Niall doesn’t let the silence between them rest for long. Harry’s barely made it to the corner when he opens his mouth and asks, “so how are you feeling?”

“Not great,” Harry admits. “Exactly, um, exactly how much do you know about me and Liam?” It’s pretty clear Louis has told Niall at least the basics of their situation, but Harry doesn’t know what level of detail Louis gave. 

“I know that when you were here visiting I was under the impression you and Liam were dating. I mean, you two certainly acted like a couple, so you can imagine my surprise when Liam walked in two weeks after you left with a date. That’s when Louis explained your arrangement, or whatever you want to call it.”

“Are you going to tell me it was dumb, too?” Harry asks, too tired for the back-and-forth he’d been having with Louis for the past few weeks. 

“Hopefully you already know that, mate,” Niall says. “Look, Louis loves you both a lot and just wants to see you happy. Unfortunately, you kind of fucked yourself over on that part and now he thinks he can find a way to fix it.”

“I don’t know if he can,” Harry says, glancing over at Niall. “Like, Liam looked pretty happy and all. I think he likes having someone, well, _normal_ to be with.”

“What do you mean?” Niall asks. 

“I mean, he didn’t even _tell_ him about me, right? And Louis didn’t tell you. They’re my best mates but sometimes I think they like to keep me a secret,” Harry says, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel a bit nervously. 

“It’s not like that,” Niall says confidently, and he smiles when Harry looks over at him. “I asked Louis to explain why he hadn’t told me. He said--it’s not because they’re ashamed of you, or anything like that. But uh, your fans can get a bit...excited. I don’t think you realize it, because you’re probably used to it, but a bunch of your fans follow Louis and Liam on Twitter or Instagram and are constantly sending them things, asking them questions. Mate, you should have seen the comments on that picture Louis posted of the four of us. So I think a big reason is them trying to protect your privacy. There’s uh, another reason, though.” He trails off as Harry pulls up in front of his building. 

“What’s the other reason?” Harry asks slowly, not loving the direction this is going.

“Uh, there are some people on the internet, Louis doesn’t even really think them fans of you, but they like to say, well, not so nice things about the two of them,” Niall’s eyes are darting around, looking anywhere but at Harry. 

“Not so nice things like what?” Harry asks. It’s tense in the car now, and Harry is dreading the words that are going to come out of Niall’s mouth, whatever they are.

“Like, that they’re using you for fame or for attention or something. There are comments like that, and like, they know they aren’t true, but Louis told me Liam still reads them. And, well, you know Liam,” Niall says, a bit apologetically.

Harry lets his head fall back against the headrest. “God. He really shouldn’t be with me.”

“No, Harry, that’s not--it’s not _you_. That’s just what some random people on the internet think. Liam and Louis don’t think that, I promise. So like, maybe you’re right and Liam wants someone ‘normal,’ but he was happy with you, you guys were happy together. And it sucks to see you unhappy now.”

“Do you have any suggestions?” Harry says with a humorless laugh. 

“I don’t know, mate. Next time you’re in love with someone don’t start up a relationship where you essentially use each other for sex?”

Harry laughs again, and this time he thinks it might sound a bit hysterical. “Yeah, yeah I’ll think about that one.”

Niall nods, then reaches out and pulls Harry into a hug over the gearshift. “It’ll work out,” he says, just before he pulls back and gets out of the car. Harry nods at him, but he’s not sure if he agrees. 

*

Harry spends the next few days slowly torturing himself as he hangs out with Liam and Kyle. Usually, Niall and Louis are there and willing to run interference, but about three days after he gets back to London he walks into Liam and Louis’ flat and finds the couple there alone, both Louis and Niall in class. He tries to extricate himself, say something about giving them a bit of time alone, but Liam insists he stay. 

“We were just going to put a film on, come on Haz, stay,” he says, with the look on his face that Harry can never resist. Harry falls into the armchair, Liam and Kyle cuddled together on the couch, and wonders vaguely if this is what hell feels like. 

“Alright, but feel free to kick me out if you want,” he tries to joke, but he’s afraid it comes out a bit too serious. Liam and Kyle just laugh, though. They put in the film, one of the Fast and Furious series, Harry thinks, but he doesn’t pay much attention. He keeps his eyes glued to the screen, watching as Vin Diesel runs around and blows shit up, but his mind is set on the couple on the couch. He can hear them talking, giving running commentary on the story of the film, and he hears them shift around few times. He can picture them cuddling, getting comfortable, but he refuses to look to confirm his mind’s imaginations. When he hears the noise of a kiss, though, it becomes too much and he stands. 

“I’m hungry, do you want snacks? I’m going to get some snacks,” he says, walking into the kitchen. Once he gets there, he braces himself against the counter, leaning forwards until his forehead rests against the cabinets and letting out a long breath. 

“Hey, everything alright?”

Harry jumps, smacking his head against the cabinet. “Fucking hell, Liam,” he says, bringing a hand to his forehead. 

“Shit, Harry,” Liam says, and then he’s at Harry’s side, turning him around and looking at Harry’s head. His fingers are gentle, and Harry drops his hand to his side as Liam inspects him. 

“Will I live, doc?” he says quietly. Liam’s in his space, closer than they’ve been in pretty much the entire time he’s been home, the one exception when they hugged in greeting that first day. Now, with Liam so close they’re practically sharing breath and his hands running light and gentle over Harry’s face, Harry wants to kiss him more than he’s ever wanted anything before. He curls his hands into fists at his sides. 

“Yeah, reckon so,” Liam says, just as quiet, and he brings his hands down to rest at Harry’s shoulders for a minute, making eye contact. It’s then that he seems to recognize their proximity, and his eyes widen for a bit before he steps back. Harry looks at the floor. 

“Liam--”

“Do you like Kyle?” Liam says at the same time, and Harry’s eyes fly up to meet his. His face is impassive, showing no reaction to what had happened--or nearly happened--a second before. Maybe Harry had imagined it, the slight flick of Liam’s eyes down to Harry’s mouth before he stepped away. 

“Uh,” Harry starts, a bit taken aback by Liam’s abruptness. “Yeah, he seems really nice.”

“You think so?” Liam asks, looking at Harry intently. “I know we haven’t, like--talked, really, or anything, but what you think matters. I mean it.”

“Thanks, Liam,” Harry says. “You don’t need to worry, though, I like Kyle. I promise.” He turns back to the cabinets, opening one and reaching up to grab a bag of crisps. He goes to hand them to Liam and notices that Liam has a skeptical look on his face as he takes the bag. Harry ignores it, though, and asks if he wants a cup of tea.

Liam nods slowly before heading back out to the living room, and Harry breathes out a sigh when he’s gone. He takes his time making the tea, bracing himself for a few more hours of quality Liam/Kyle bonding time. He’s also forcing himself to forget the feeling of Liam standing so close to him, touching him. He almost wishes he had hit his head on the cabinet harder, maybe it would’ve affected his memory so he could get rid of all these feelings swirling around inside him. He takes another deep breath before heading into the other room. 

_You can do this,_ he thinks to himself, but when he sees the way Liam’s got his head resting on Kyle’s shoulder, he’s not fully convinced that he can. 

*

He goes to see Grimmy the next day, begging off yet another afternoon spent in the presence of Liam and Kyle in exchange for a day vegging on the couch watching rom-coms. They’d already gotten through The Notebook (no tears this time, thankfully) and had started Notting Hill, Hugh Grant bumbling through a fake interview on screen, when Nick breaks the silence. 

“How’s Liam?” he asks, and right, Harry had never gotten around to telling him about the whole Kyle situation. 

“Good, good, he’s seeing a guy he met doing work experience,” Harry says, and then stuffs a handful of popcorn into his mouth so he doesn’t have to say anything else. 

“Wait, what?” Grimmy says, incredulous. “Let’s ignore for a moment that I seem to recall him doing work experience at _Capital_ , which means he’s more than fraternizing with the enemy at this point, but what the hell is your boyfriend doing seeing some other guy?”

“Didn’t I tell you enough times that we were never dating?” Harry deadpans, eyes staying glued on the screen. Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts are kissing. Harry doesn’t feel bitter. 

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Harry, are you still on that? How’s this: a person who you sleep with regularly, who has met your parents, whose _flat_ you practically _live in_ , and who you see exclusively, is your boyfriend.”

“Ah, well, we missed the last one, didn’t we? Never were exclusive when I went away. So, he met someone and now he’s with him. They are exclusive, though, so that’s nice,” Harry says, and Nick makes an exasperated noise next to him. Harry looks over, and Nick is staring at him with wide eyes. 

“You’re in love with Liam,” he says, and it isn’t a question. 

“Yes,” Harry says anyway. 

“And now he’s with someone else.”

“Yes.”

“Because of something you wanted in the first place.”

“Yes.”

“Fucking hell, popstar, what have you gotten yourself into?” Nick says with a slight laugh, falling back against the couch. 

“I dunno, mate, but I can tell you it isn’t fun,” Harry responds. “Like, I’ve had to spend the last few days with the happy couple, seeing them all loved up, and it’s fucking torture. Did you know I can’t remember a time before I was about fifteen when I didn’t kiss Liam hello? So that’s about seven years of kissing nearly every day. And now I gotta watch him kiss someone else. It fucking sucks.” He closes his eyes, leans his head against the back of the couch, and breathes out. He’s been keeping this bottled up, avoiding Louis and Niall and their pitying eyes. Talking to Nick, who’s always had his back, lifts a weight off his shoulders. 

“Harry, I’m sorry, but if you’re looking for sympathy, you’re not going to get a lot from me. This is your fault.”

Harry’s eyes snap open, and he looks at Nick, betrayed. “You think I don’t know that? Of course this is my fault, it’s all my fucking fault, but I still fucking love him. I love him, and I broke my own heart, and it’s all my fault, and I _know_ , okay?” He blinks quickly a few times, and laughs at himself when a tear falls. “I definitely know.”

Nick drops an arm around his shoulder. “There, there, Harry, I’m sorry. I still think you’re an idiot, for the record, but I guess you’ve punished yourself enough for the both of us.”

Harry sniffles in response. Onscreen, Hugh and Julia are breaking into a garden. “Maybe watching movies about love was a stupid decision,” he says morosely.

“The latest of many,” Nick replies, and Harry laughs wetly. 

*

The next few days pass normally. Harry goes to a few writing sessions and ignores the looks he gets from the guys when he brings notebooks and loose sheets of paper littered with lyrics about lost love and broken hearts. He lays himself bare on the page, honest in a way that he can't be with his friends or family. He's always found music cathartic, a way to process emotions, whether it's joy or pain you're feeling. He just happens to have a never ending source of hurt taking up place in his chest at this moment. 

He had initially hoped that writing down his feelings about Liam in a song (or two or possibly twelve) would help him move past it, work through whatever shit is going on in his heart and his head, but it only gets harder to be around Liam. It’s like writing about their relationship only opened the floodgates, and now Harry finds himself spending hours looking through old pictures on his phone or staring into space thinking back on their times growing up. It’s the worst kind of torture, because he can picture so clearly Liam at seven, at thirteen, at eighteen, and Harry was (is, really) in love with him the whole time. 

He starts dodging his mum’s calls, because he knows she wants him to come up and visit, but he can’t face going home now. That house--that whole bloody _town_ \--is so linked to Liam in his mind that he’s not sure he could handle being surrounded by it. Not to mention he’s always been crap at lying to his mum, and while she might live with the “I’m _fine_ , I promise” he says on the phone, he knows she could take one look at him and see straight through whatever excuses he gives. 

He still sees Liam and Louis most days, though he tries to schedule around when he knows Kyle is working or otherwise busy--handling Liam on his own is hard enough, he doesn’t need to pour salt in the wound and watch them together any more than he already has. That doesn’t fully solve his problem, though, since most of Liam’s stories now involve Kyle in some shape or form. Like now, where Liam’s in the middle of telling them about something Kyle and his mates did the other night when they were out for drinks--Harry’s mostly tuned out, pushing the leftover rice from the Chinese they had around his plate--when his phone beeps with a message. 

“Oh, speak of the devil,” he says, laughing, and Harry snorts. Louis aims a kick at his ankle under the table and sends him a look that says _don’t say what you’re thinking_. Harry rolls his eyes at him, glad Liam is glued to his phone and can’t see their silent conversation. “Kyle’s just finished up with work, is it alright if he comes over?” He looks at Harry as he asks, though Louis is his flatmate. 

“It’s your house, mate,” Harry says, and gets up to start clearing their plates. “Pretty sure it’s your call.” Liam blinks at him, then nods slowly, and Harry goes into the kitchen. Louis follows him. 

“You gonna leave?” Louis asks, leaning a hip against the counter as Harry puts the dishes into the sink. He turns on the water, then turns and looks at Louis. 

“Maybe.”

“I know it’s hard, Harry, but I think you should stay. Kyle’s not so bad, and I think Liam’s starting to suspect you’ve got a problem with him,” Louis says with a shrug, sympathetic look on his face. Harry’s glad he’s gotten over his meddling faze and now mostly sends Harry looks like he’s being an idiot. Harry’s used to those by now. 

“I thought you were on my side,” Harry says with a wry smile, pouring a bit of soap into the sink and rolling up his sleeves. Louis scoffs. 

“There aren’t _sides_ , Harry. I want you happy and I want Liam happy. And I think it could help you to move on if you actually talk to Kyle, instead of just sitting in the corner depressed whenever he’s over.”

“What if I don’t want to move on?” Harry says quietly, eyes trained on the plate in his hands. Louis sighs and comes closer, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

“I don’t know, Haz, I don’t know,” he tells him, and then he goes into the other room. Harry can hear a crash as Louis presumably tackles Liam, and he smiles despite himself. Even as much as it hurts, he wouldn’t give up their friendship for anything. 

*

He forces himself to keep that thought in his head about three hours later, when Liam and Louis are practically falling off the couch laughing at some joke Kyle just made. Harry manages to muster up a smile when Kyle glances at him, but it falls off as soon as he looks away. He stands and mumbles an excuse about using the bathroom before leaving the room. 

In the bathroom, he stands for a while looking at himself in the mirror. “Come on, pull it together,” he mutters to his reflection, and then leans forward to splash a bit of cold water on his face. “You can do this.” He dries his face on a hand towel and takes a few more deep breaths before he leaves, nearly running headfirst into Kyle, who’s stood outside the door. 

“Oh, sorry,” Harry says, moving to go around him, but Kyle grabs his arm. 

“Actually, I--uh, I wanted to talk to you,” he says, and drops his hand when Harry looks at him. 

“What about?” Harry asks, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest, feigning casual. In his head, his thoughts are racing around, but the one stand out is: _he knows_. Harry doesn’t know what he’ll do if Kyle is confronting him about his feelings about Liam--he can barely handle it when he confronts _himself_ about his feelings for Liam.

“Look, I don’t know if you have a problem with me, or with me being with Liam, or whatever, but I know I’m not your favorite person. Don’t,” he holds up a hand when Harry opens his mouth to deny that, “it’s alright. I’m a big boy, right? I can handle it if people don’t like me. It’s just, Liam speaks really highly of you, and I know you’re very close. So it would be nice to know, like, if it’s anything in particular? That you dislike about me? Because I do quite like Liam, and it would be nice if I could spend time with one of his best friends without feeling like I’m constantly on the back foot, or you’re just waiting for me to fuck up, or something.” He takes a deep breath when he finishes, and Harry stands there, a bit stunned. He had thought he had hidden his dislike of Kyle well enough; Liam certainly hasn’t said anything since that conversation they had in the kitchen. Maybe he was too caught up in his own shit to notice that he was being at subtle as a brick.

“It’s not--you’re a good guy, right?” Harry says. “I know that. I just, I don’t know, I’m not used to Liam being in a relationship.” _I’m not used to Liam being in a relationship that’s not with me_ , he says in his head. “But it’s not anything you’ve done, or said. And I can tell Liam likes you, so we’re fine.”

“Okay,” Kyle says slowly. “And you’ll tell me if that changes?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Harry lies. “Now let’s go before Liam thinks we’re doing something naughty in the bathroom.”

Kyle laughs. “Nah, I think he’s a bit too innocent for that.”

Harry nearly laughs out loud, a montage of images running through his head of exactly how _innocent_ Liam is--or isn’t. Kyle’s got a lot to learn if he still thinks that. Harry doesn’t say that, though, just nods and leads the way back into the living room. 

*

The conversation with Kyle marks a shift for Harry. Kyle had been so nice, and genuinely concerned about Harry’s opinion of him, and despite his ignorance of certain parts of Liam’s personality, Harry knows he wasn’t lying when he said he liked him a lot. So he takes a step back. Louis complains about it, saying he’s _giving up_ , but Harry doesn’t see how he could be giving up when he wasn’t a contender in the first place. Liam had chosen Kyle, had chosen him back in October when he went on a date, and now it’s nearing Christmas and Harry is dreading the holiday. In previous years, all their families spent it together, crammed into someone’s house and giving gifts and eating a veritable feast for Christmas dinner. Last Christmas, Harry had set up a scheme to see how many time he could catch Liam under the mistletoe--it had ended with Louis throwing a glass of water on them when they had gotten a bit too heated for shared company. This year, he can only imagine that Liam will come armed with story after story about Kyle, and Harry will have to endure the pitying and worried glances from every member of his, Liam’s, and Louis’ families. It’s not exactly the happy prospect you think of during the holiday season. 

He becomes a bit of a hermit, not wanting to see Liam or Kyle, or the two together, and stays holed up in his house for days on end. Louis comes over for a bit, Niall too, and even Nick a few times, but each time Harry has sunk further into his depression over his broken heart, and they mostly shake their heads when they see him curled under a mound of blankets on his couch, hair greasy and eyes unfocused on the television. He’s on the fourth day of this when someone starts banging on his front door. 

He eyes it warily, not knowing who it could be. He hasn’t ordered in any food, and most of his friends have keys. He worries for a moment that it might be a fan that snuck past the doorman downstairs, but then a voice calls through the wood. 

“Harry Edward Styles, open up right now!” 

He’s off the couch in a second, tripping a bit over his blanket cocoon and sliding on the hardwood floor in his thick wool socks. He swings the door open and gapes at Gemma on the other side. 

“Gem? What are you doing here?” he asks, and she rolls her eyes, pushing past him into the flat. 

“You might think you’re a good liar, but you aren’t. Mum knew something was up, but she wasn’t going to say anything because she thinks you’re an adult and can fix your own problems. I obviously know better than her,” Gemma says, gesturing at Harry’s current state. Harry pulls his blanket tighter to him, feeling self-conscious. “Also Louis called me and told me you were getting to new heights of pathetic and that he couldn’t deal with it anymore.”

Harry huffs, turning to head back to his position on the couch, telly stuck on some home and garden show he can’t seem to turn off. “Louis doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“Really?” Gemma says. “Look in a mirror lately?”

“Shut up,” Harry grumbles, sliding down further on the couch. Gemma comes over and sits next to him.

“Louis said you were in a bad state, but wouldn’t say why. He forgets I follow Liam on Instagram and there’s been some posts lately with a guy,” she says, and her voice is softer now, kinder.

“Go ahead,” Harry says. “You told me so.”

“Yeah, of course I did. I’m always right,” she says, but she throws an arm around his shoulders. “I still don’t want to see you hurt, little brother.”

Harry snorts, leaning his head on her shoulder. “Too late for that.” They sit in silence for awhile, watching as the couple on the telly tour house after house and find various imperfections with each one. Eventually Gemma forces him up and into the shower, complaining about his stench and the amount of grease in his hair. He does feel better after, the hot water doing well to wash away a bit of the despair that had been coating him for days. When he gets out after his fingers turn pruny, Gemma is banging around in the kitchen, somehow having managed to find food in his desolate fridge.

“Took you long enough,” she says when he pads into the room. “I was beginning to worry you had drowned.” She passes him a plate. “Dippy eggs and soldiers, your favorite.”

Harry smiles at her, taking the plate. “Thanks, Gem.” They sit and start eating, Harry slowly tearing apart the toast and using it to soak up the yolk of the egg. Halfway through breakfast--if they can call it that while eating at 3 in the afternoon--Gemma puts down her fork and looks up at him. 

“So, you want to tell me what’s going on?”

“Think you figured it out. Liam’s dating someone, I’m heartbroken, and it’s my own fault,” Harry sighs, taking a sip from his glass of orange juice to wash down the bitter feeling that comes with his words. 

“And that’s it?” Gemma asks. “You’re not going to do anything about it?”

“What can I do? He’s moved on.”

“Are you sure?”

“Am I sure?” Harry laughs. “Gemma, I’ve spent the past two weeks with them. Liam’s happy.”

“Well, have you ever actually talked to him about how he’s feeling? Or how _you’re_ feeling?” Gemma says, and the smirks at Harry’s silence. “Harry, I love you, but your communication skills are shit.”

“Yeah, cheers. So, what should I do? Just go tell him I love him and he should leave his boyfriend for me?” Harry scoffs. 

“Maybe!” Gemma says, throwing her arms out. “One thing’s for sure, we’re all sick and tired of you sitting around looking depressed. You have to at least tell him how you feel. Maybe it’ll work out, maybe it won’t, but at least you won’t be carrying it around anymore. And maybe you could start to move on. But you have to do _something_. Nut up or shut up.”

Harry laughs. “Did you really just tell me to _nut up_ or _shut up_?” he asks, shocked. Gemma stands, taking her plate. 

“Yes, and you should listen to me,” she says, slapping him on the back of the head as she walks back into the kitchen. Harry sits at the table for a while as his food grows cold, thinking over Gemma’s words. Eventually, he stands, walking into the living room where Gemma’s curled on the couch, telly now switched to an episode of Corrie. She looks up at him when he walks in, reaching for the remote to mute the television. 

“So?” she asks simply. 

“I’m going to do it. I just need a bit more time,” he says. 

“I’m going to stay for a few days,” Gemma says, sitting up a bit on the couch and patting the seat next to her. “But don’t leave it for too long, Harry. It’s already gone on long enough.”

Harry nods, and curls up on the couch next to her, like he used to do when they were small and watching cartoons on Saturday morning. He’s taller now, but his head fits on her shoulder the same. “I’ll do it before Christmas, I promise,” he says after a few minutes. Gemma just hums, squeezing his shoulder.

*

Harry keeps his promise only because Gemma is still staying in his flat and he can’t avoid her piercing stares when she’s in his house all the time. About two days after their conversation he sends Liam a text to ask if they could talk. Liam replies in the affirmative, and Harry shoots another text to Louis to make sure their flat is kept clear for the next few hours, since he doesn’t know how long this will take and he definitely doesn’t need an audience. Gemma sends him off with a ruffle of his hair and a “it’ll all work out, Harry,” and he repeats her words to himself the entire way to Liam’s, trying to convince himself that they’re true. He stands in front of the door to Liam’s flat for a while, breathing deeply and trying to calm the rapid beating of his heart. It takes him about five minutes, but eventually he reaches up and knocks on the door. 

Liam opens the door and pulls Harry into a hug that Harry is barely able to return before he pulls back, too nervous to be standing still. He walks into the living room, Liam trailing behind him bemusedly, but he bypasses the couch and instead begins pacing in front of it. Liam sits down and watches him, looking confused. 

“Haz? Is something wrong?” he asks, concerned. Harry stops his pacing and goes over to the couch, sitting down next to Liam abruptly. 

“I need to tell you something. And I’m not sure how to say it,” he confesses. Liam’s face clears, confusion replaced with curiosity and a touch of sympathy. 

“Harry, you know you can tell me anything. It’ll be fine, whatever it is.”

Harry huffs a bit of a laugh. “Okay, well, remember that you said that when you hear what I have to say.” Liam’s eyes turn concerned again, and Harry reaches out and grabs his hand. “And, like, this is hard for me to get out, so if you could just, like, listen? And not say anything till I’m done, okay?” Liam nods, and Harry breathes out slowly. “Um, I’ve wanted to say this for a while, but I never really knew how. So here goes. I’m in love with you. I always have been, like, my whole life. I really can’t remember a time when I wasn’t in love with you. And the--arrangement we had, or whatever you want to call it, it was a mistake. I didn’t see it at the time, but I see it now that I fucked up when I suggested it, because I lost you because of it. And this isn’t--I’m not trying to, like, steal you away or something. You’re happy with Kyle and I see that, and I don’t want to come between you, but I just--I needed to tell you. Because it's killing me watching you with someone else, especially because if I wasn't such an idiot, you would be with me. And, like, I'm trying to be better and work on getting over you, I guess, but it's hard, and Gemma and Louis and Niall and Nick all told me the place to start was by telling you the full truth. So there it is. I love you,” he says again, before he forces himself to shut his mouth. He looks at Liam, whose eyes are wide as he looks back at Harry. He doesn't say anything, though, and Harry shifts around uncomfortably.

“Okay,” Liam says eventually. Harry blinks.

“Sorry?” he says, not sure he's heard correctly.

“Okay,” Liam says again, with a bit of a shrug.

“Okay,” Harry repeats. “Well, um, I'm going to just, uh, go then.” He stands, realizing belatedly that he's still holding on to Liam's hand. He drops it, rubbing his palms against his thighs to rid them of sweat. He nods at Liam, once, before walking out the door. He makes it about halfway down the hallway before his knees give out, and he falls back against the wall. He slides down until he's sitting with his back against the wall. He rests his head against his knees and breathes in and out shakily. He stays there for a few minutes, trying to hold back the tears he can feel pricking the backs of his eyes. “Fuck,” he whispers, and he knocks his head back against the wall. He bangs his head against the wall one more time before he forces himself up off the floor and out of the building.

*

Gemma’s waiting for Harry when he gets back home, on the couch watching telly but obviously not paying much attention to the show on the screen. When he stumbles through the door and collapses on the couch next to her, not even bothering to remove his coat or boots, she mutes the show. 

“How did it go?” she asks, though Harry is pretty sure his whole being at this moment shows _exactly_ how it went. 

“Shit,” he says. Gemma looks at him sympathetically. 

“Shit how?”

“Shit like I bared my heart to him and he said ‘okay.’”

“That was it?” Gemma asks, a bit shocked. 

“Yup. I told him everything, gave this whole big speech about how I’ve always been in love with him, and he said ‘okay.’ So I left,” Harry says, and he sinks down further into the couch. “Well. That’s that done, then.”

“Harry,” Gemma says slowly. “Are you okay?”

“Not really,” he says, blinking rapidly to try to rid himself of the tears that form in his eyes. He isn’t successful, though, and one of them rolls down his cheek. He wipes it away quickly, but Gemma sees anyway. 

“Oh, Haz,” she says, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into her. He buries his head in her shoulder, finally letting go all the emotions he’s had bottled up for weeks now, ever since he got back from tour. He sobs into Gemma’s shirt, probably getting it disgusting with his tears and snot. Gemma doesn’t seem to mind, though, just rubs her hand soothingly along his back and whispers nonsense into his ear. Eventually, Harry calms down, sobs turning into silent tears which finally trail off into slow, heaving breaths. When his tears cease, he pulls back from Gemma’s shoulder, wiping his face off on his sleeve.

“Sorry,” he sniffs, gesturing to her shirt, which is a bit ruined.

“It’s alright,” she says, and it probably says something about his current state that she isn’t giving him any shit, only looking at him sympathetically. “You feel better?”

Harry nods, rubbing at his eyes. He feels small, like he’s four years old and just finished a tantrum about losing a toy, not twenty-two and harboring a broken heart. Gemma stands, clapping her hands together and offering to bring him as much greasy food and pizza as he likes, and he manages to muster up a smile. They spend the next few hours curled on the couch stuffing themselves with crap food until they feel more like balloons than people. Harry excuses himself to bed eventually, begging off when Gemma offers to put in another film. He can tell she wants to keep an eye on him, but he can take care of himself. He heads to his room, changing into fresh clothes and washing his face to rid it of leftover tears before crawling into bed. 

He can’t sleep, though. He hears Gemma turn off the telly and head to bed after a while, and then it’s quiet in the flat, but Harry still finds himself tossing and turning under the covers. He keeps replaying his conversation with Liam over in his head, wondering if he could have said or done something _different_ , that would have ended the way Harry really wanted--with Liam in his arms. Every time he closes his eyes he sees Liam, and it’s unbearable. After several hours of staring at his ceiling, he sits up in bed and grabs his laptop, clicking around on it for a few minutes before he can talk himself out of it. When he’s done, he grabs a bag from his closet, stuffing it full with a few changes of clothes and other necessities before he heads out the door. He leaves Gemma a note, apologizing to her and promising to call when he gets the chance, and he leaves.

*

He goes to LA. He needs a change of scenery, to get away from London where he’s reminded of Liam at every turn. And with Christmas only days away, he definitely can’t handle the prospect of facing Liam and both their families at the same time. His mum isn’t too pleased with him for missing the holiday, but Harry’s pretty sure Gemma talks to her, because after the first angry call she just sounds a bit sad and understanding on the phone. 

Usually, LA is comforting to Harry. It isn’t home, but over the past few years it’s become a second one, and he’s never without things to do or people to see when he’s there. Louis always complains about him spending time with his _famous_ friends and forgetting all about the _two most important people in his life_. Liam never really said much about it, but he would usually text or call Harry a few times a week when he was out there, just to chat.

Now, Harry’s phone sits silent on his nightstand. Harry doesn’t think about it much. Or, he tries not to. 

Harry doesn’t tell many people he’s in LA. He knows all his friends would want to see him, but he also knows he’s not good company right now. Most of his LA friends wouldn’t even understand _why_ he’s like this--he had only told a select few the true extent of his relationship with Liam, and those who do know aren’t in the loop enough to know why he’s moping around heartbroken on another continent instead of home with his family and somewhat-boyfriend. The only person who knows everything is Jeff, and Harry’s doing a bang-up job of avoiding him. It’s just that Jeff doesn’t know Liam very well, and would definitely be on Harry’s side for whatever he’s going through, but Harry doesn’t need that right now. He doesn’t need someone to tell him he’s right and Liam is a jerk, since Harry knows _he_ is the dick in this situation, and everything Liam has done has been perfectly acceptable. 

So Harry ignores Jeff’s texts asking to hang out, and he declines when Jeff invites him over for Christmas with his family. Harry loves the Azoffs, he does, but he can’t seem to break himself out of the funk he’s been in since his conversation with Liam, and he has no desire to drag more people into this mess he’s created for himself. Instead, he bums around his house and spends Christmas watching It’s a Wonderful Life and Love Actually. He’s cut himself off from the world for a bit, something he knows his fans (and his management) aren’t exactly happy with, so he pulls his phone out and sends a tweet wishing everyone a Happy Christmas, and he shouldn’t be surprised when his phone rings not even two minutes after hitting send, Louis’ contact photo lighting up the screen. 

“Hi, Lou,” he answers on a sigh. 

“And where the hell are you? Anne and Gemma are keeping mum on the subject, but don’t think no one’s noticed your little disappearing act,” Louis snaps on the other end of the line. 

“I’m fine. I’m in LA.”

Louis scoffs. “Of course you are. Harry, I know you’ve been having a rough time lately, but really? Running off to LA and missing Christmas with your family? Missing my _birthday_?”

Harry groans. “Sorry about your birthday, Lou, really. But I’m guessing Liam didn’t tell you anything about the conversation we had?”

“Not really, no,” Louis says, but the outrage has left his voice.

“I told him I love him, and he said ‘okay,’” Harry says with a sigh. 

“He said ‘okay?’” Louis repeats, incredulous. 

“Yes, and I decided I’d had enough of torturing myself, so I came to LA. But I am sorry I missed Christmas. And your birthday.”

“That was all he said?” Louis says, still stuck on Liam’s response.

“ _Yes_. He said ‘okay,’ and I left, and I cried on Gemma for hours, and then I came to LA, alright?” Harry says, exasperated. 

“That’s--I don’t--I need to go,” Louis says, and hangs up the phone before Harry can respond. Harry shakes his head, dropping his phone onto the cushion beside him and focusing back on the film in front of him. The little boy is racing through the airport, trying to catch the love of his life before she gets on the plane. Harry runs his hands over his face, sighing, and shuts off the TV. 

*

Harry passes the next two days in a similar fashion, lying around depressed and pathetic in his house. He’s at the point where he’s actually tired of himself acting like this, but he can’t get himself out of it. So he gets In-N-Out delivered to his house and stuffs his face, glad all his super health-conscious LA friends aren’t there to see him and make some comment about their latest juice cleanse or kale-based diet. If he wants to wallow in self-pity and give up his health regimen at the same time, he will. No one’s there to judge him anyway, since his self-imposed isolation has worked like a charm. 

It’s worked so well, in fact, that Harry’s not sure he’s not hallucinating when he hears his buzzer go. He’s wondering if he blacked out and ordered more food as he hits the intercom and speaks into it. “Hello?” he says cautiously, hoping it’s not some intrepid pap trying to catch him off guard. 

“It’s me,” comes from the other end of the line, and Harry reels back from the intercom, staring at it for a second before slowly moving toward it again.

“Liam?” he asks, just to be sure.

“Yes, Harry,” Liam says, sounding exasperated. “Are you going to let me in?”

Harry pauses, weighing his options. On the one hand, he probably shouldn’t leave Liam standing out in the cold--well, as cold as it gets in Los Angeles. On the other, he’s wary of letting Liam in to potentially stomp on his heart more. The intercom buzzes again before he makes up his mind, and Liam sounds more frustrated. 

“Come on, Harry,” he says, and Harry sighs, shaking his head at himself for ever thinking he _had_ a decision, and buzzes Liam through the gate. After he’s done that, he remembers the current state of his house and runs back into the living room to try to clear up as many of the empty cups, dirty plates, and old food wrappers as possible before Liam comes in and realizes just how pathetic he’s been over the past week. He gathers them all up in his arms and manages to dump them in the kitchen before his doorbell is ringing and he’s rushing to get the door. He stops for a second in the foyer, checking his appearance in the mirror there and trying to fix his hair into less of a total rat’s nest before realizing it was a pointless endeavor, and Liam was probably getting impatient standing outside. He takes a deep breath before pulling open the door and facing Liam on the other side. 

Liam looks good, really good. He’s obviously come straight from the airport, clothes rumpled and bags obvious under his eyes, but his cheeks are flushed nicely under his stubble, and he has the warm look about him that he always gets when he’s spent time at home being well-fed and taken care of. Harry loves him more than words can express. 

“Hey,” Liam says timidly. “Can I, uh?” He gestures across the door frame, and Harry steps back hastily. 

“Yeah, yeah of course,” he says, running a hand through his hair quickly. “Um, what--what are you doing here?” he asks as he shuts the door behind Liam. Liam shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, rocking forward a bit on the balls of his feet. 

“I think we need to talk about some things,” he says vaguely, and he nods his head for Harry to follow him into the living room. It’s strange, Harry thinks, seeing Liam in his space here. For so long, Los Angeles was just for Harry, and watching Liam walk through his house feels off, somehow. Harry can’t say he dislikes it, though.

Liam walks into the living room and takes in the mess of blankets and pillows Harry’s got set up on the couch. He smiles a bit before sitting down gingerly on the edge of a cushion. When Harry makes no move to sit down with him, he pats the space next to him. “Sit down, Harry.”

“Why?” Harry asks.

“Because the last time we had a conversation, you fled the country, and I want to make sure that doesn’t happen again,” Liam responds with a wry smile. Harry still feels a bit doubtful, but he sits down on the couch next to Liam cautiously.

“What did you want to talk about?” he asks slowly, worried that Liam’s here to tell him that he’s decided he never wants to speak to him again. 

“I broke up with Kyle,” is what Liam says instead, and Harry blinks, confused.

“What? Why?”

“I broke up with Kyle because of what you said,” Liam says, and then he pauses and takes a breath. “Kyle was, like, he was nice, right? And I did like him, but then you came back from tour, and it was different, and I--” He stops again, taking another breath and breathing out on a shaky laugh. “I had this whole speech planned, you know? And here I am rambling.”

“Liam,” Harry says slowly, wanting to make sure he’s getting this right. “Why exactly did you break up with Kyle?”

Liam looks up from where his eyes were trained on his fingers twisting together, making eye contact with Harry before answering. “Because I’m in love with you.”

Harry’s heart stops in his chest and then starts beating again, double time. He can feel a huge grin break out on his face and he can’t seem to stop it’s growth.

“Really?” Harry asks, and his voice comes out quiet, reverent.

Liam nods. “I broke up with Kyle because I wasn’t going to cheat on him. He really _was_ a nice guy, he just wasn’t--you. But by the time I had done that and gone round to yours, Gemma said you were gone, and she wouldn’t tell me where you went. It took until Louis called you for us to even know where you were, and I was on the first flight I could get out here because you were being such a big baby.”

“But I’m a big baby that you’re _in love with_ ,” Harry says, grin still wide on his face. 

Liam rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”

Harry brings a hand up to Liam’s face, running his fingers along Liam’s jaw before coming to a rest under his ear, thumb pressing down on his bottom lip. “Okay,” he murmurs, leaning in to close the gap between them, but Liam turns his head before their lips meet, causing Harry’s mouth to glance off his jaw. Harry rolls with it, pressing a line of kisses against the cut of Liam’s jaw. Liam pulls his head back, though, pushing gently at Harry’s chest. 

“Harry,” he says. “Wait.”

Harry pulls back, giving him a confused look. “Why?” he asks, and he might be pouting a bit. 

“Because we’re not done talking yet,” Liam says with a short laugh. 

“Well, we’ve established that I love you, and that you love me,” Harry says, listing them off on his fingers. “What else is there?”

Liam snorts, reaching up and covering Harry’s hands with his own. “Harry, we’re in this mess because we never communicated well enough. If we’re going to do this, _really_ do this, we can’t just fall back into what he had before. We need to talk, we need to make sure we’re on the same page.”

Harry sags back against the couch, pouting. “I guess you’re right.”

Liam laughs again, squeezing Harry’s hands. “I know I am,” he says, smiling at the mulish look on Harry’s face before he turns serious again. “Harry, I need to know you’re serious about this--about us. We did it before and it didn’t work, and I don’t blame you for that, because I agreed to it and I was fine with it at the time, but if we don’t want to end up heartbroken again we both need to go in knowing this is it.” Liam pauses, and blushes a bit. “Or, well, this is it for me.”

“You’re it for me too, Liam,” Harry says, sitting up and looking into Liam’s eyes. “I’m sorry I ever made you feel like you weren’t. I’m in this, 100 percent, okay?” He squeezes Liam’s hand where it’s still linked with his own. “Fully in it, like, I’m talking holding hands in public and taking you as my date to awards shows and posting cheesy pictures of you to my Instagram.”

“You’d have to actually use your Instagram to do that last one,” Liam teases him gently, and Harry grins madly. He’d missed that. 

“Come on,” he whines. “I’ve been heartbroken, give me a break.” He’s joking, really, but Liam’s face still falls. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I made you feel like that,” he says quietly, ducking his head. 

“Hey,” Harry says, putting a hand under Liam’s chin and bringing his eyes back up to meet him. “It’s okay. I don’t blame you for that, alright? It’s mostly my fault, to be honest.”

“I agreed, though. It’s not all your fault,” Liam says.

“Okay, okay,” Harry laughs. “No more apologies. We’re getting a fresh start, yeah? Taking it slow, and all that.”

It’s Liam’s turn to laugh this time. “I’m going to hold you to that, you know.”

“Yeah,” Harry says. “You’re worth it.” 

Liam smiles at Harry softly, and now he’s the one to lean in, stopping with his lips a breath away from Harry’s. “Is this alright?” he asks, voice no more than a whisper, and they’re so close that his lips brush against Harry’s when he speaks. 

Harry answers him by pressing forward and finally slotting their lips together. He keeps it soft, at first, reacquainting himself with the feel of Liam’s lips against his, but soon enough he’s deepening it, pushing forward with a bit more force and slipping his tongue inside Liam’s mouth. He’s about to push even more, until Liam’s underneath him on the couch and writhing, but Liam pulls back.

“Harry, slow,” he says against Harry’s lips, and Harry groans, already regretting his earlier words. He pulls back and drops his head onto Liam’s collarbone, dropping a kiss there when Liam brings his hand up to run through his hair. 

“I’m really glad you’re here,” he murmurs after a while. 

“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” Liam says, and uses his hand in Harry’s hair to pull him into another kiss. 

*

They go to bed early that night, Liam exhausted from the jetlag (“The things I do for you, Harry,” “Yeah, love you too,”), but Harry lies awake for a long time after Liam’s dropped off to sleep. He watches him, reveling in the feel of having Liam in his bed again after months of sleeping alone. He’s got one hand running up and down Liam’s side, his eyes on Liam’s chest as it moves up and down, when Liam frowns in his sleep and makes a small noise in the back of his throat. He blinks his eyes open slowly, focusing on Harry after a minute.

“What are you doing?” he asks, voice raspy and full of sleep. 

“Nothing,” Harry responds. “Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

Liam rolls his eyes, snuggling back down into the blankets and closing his eyes again. “Well do it quieter, you’re keeping me up.”

Harry laughs, and presses a “sorry” into Liam’s shoulder with a kiss. Liam hums, already most of the way back to sleep, and Harry decides to join him this time, wrapping his arm more securely around Liam’s waist and closing his own eyes.

He falls asleep with a smile on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr [here](http://foliealou.tumblr.com) and the fic post [here](http://foliealou.tumblr.com/post/163911208756/call-me-a-safe-bet-im-betting-im-not-they)


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